Helping Hand
by DuchessRaven
Summary: When Alucard winds up in a difficult situation at the hands of abusive soldiers, Walter is the only one to offer a hand to help. Will she accept it, or push him away? mpreg, YWxGC, details inside
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: if you are reading this, chances are you know what mpreg is. If not, it is male pregnancy. Although in this story, Girlycard is physically female, most Hellsing fans I have spoken to have noted that since Alucard is psychologically male, I should label it mpreg.

You may have read The Way to an Heir. If you have, then simply call me sadistic for making Alucard suffer again. The idea of an mpreg involving Alucard originally started with 2 version, one evolved into Way to an Heir, and the other was this one, which I finally got around to writing.

If you have issues with yaoi, mpreg, or anything of that sort, do not read. If you have issues with mentions of rape, do not read. If you read, try to enjoy the story and do not flame me for writing and sharing. If you feel you HAVE to flame me though, because you really have nothing better to do, don't do it here, take it to my livejournal and we'll hash it out.

With that said, on to the story.

HELPING HAND

CH 1

Hellsing was a vampire-hunting organization.

That's pretty obvious. Not many people knew of its existence. Those who did know knew very little, but there was always one thing for certain: it hunted vampires. Creatures of the night, Medians, whatever you wanted to call them. They all fell in the path of Hellsing. Its leader was a man named Arthur Hellsing, well-known to be a drunken womanizer incredibly competent in his job. Rumor has it by age fifteen he was already a skilled marksman and had taken down more than a few vampires on his own.

There are even fewer who knew the true secrets of the organization. Really, there was only one secret, as their operations were actually pretty straight-forward. That one secret involved a certain operative. Gossip had it that it was a vampire.

A vampire hunting its own? Surely not. No one outside the organization could confirm it. Some said it was a male, some say female. Some say it was a tall, menacing-looking man, others say it was a young girl, or at least looked like one, and that she was actually very pretty if you haven't seen her tear into anything bloody.

Rumors. Gossip. Stories. Urban legend.

Only those inside the organization knew the truth. True, Hellsing hunted vampires, but it also kept one of its own on an invisible leash. The soldiers knew. They've hunted in tandem with this creature. It was indeed a prowler of darkness, a thing that thrived on blood, an abomination above all else. They've seen it feed.

To their eyes, it was indeed a girl. And all the rumors about her beauty were true. At first glance, she appeared no more than thirteen, petite and lovely, with flawless skin and silky hair, dark as the night in which she hunted. Her lips were peach-colored, and she had a cute little button nose that sat square below wide, shining eyes that betrayed shrewd intelligence and mischief. They were, of course, unnervingly red.

She always wore white, so that every time she hunted, the victim's bloodstains would splatter about her body, decorating it with shades of crimson and scarlet. White made it stand out. White showed everyone that she had killed. A white canvas upon which she painted with blood and gore.

Her beauty was almost ironic, the soldiers of Hellsing have always thought. How could a creature so hideous inside take on such a form? It was disgraceful. It was disgusting. She wasn't even human. She was beneath humanity. And she dared to make a mockery of the beautiful females God had created.

Every time they went out onto the field, someone had lost their family, their friends, their lives. The human soldiers hid their sympathy because they were there to do a job. They couldn't afford to take pity on everyone who fell to vampire attacks. They did their work with grim efficiency. The little vampire did not need to hide a thing. She felt no sympathy. Prancing about their ranks, she fought as if playing a game, feeding on her own brethrens. Which was more disgusting? The fact that she took down her own kind with relish or her lack of sensitivity for the human lives lost? The soldiers didn't know. Many of them had lost their own loved ones to her kind.

They couldn't stand to look at her. Yet she was always around. She seemed to be taunting them. Pathetic humans. Pitiful humans. How she must look down on them, she who was so powerful. To her, they must be nothing but ants.

How very, very ironic. She was that which they were trained to hunt down and kill.

Most of them hated her. Some more than others. They hated the way she laughed when she hunted, hated the way she decorated herself with bloodstains the way human girls accessorized with cheap earrings and rings.

Still, there was one upside.

No matter how powerful she was, by orders of the master, she couldn't hit back.

oOo

Something was tickling his face. Walter turned in his sleep, batting at the invisible fly with his hand. It went away for a moment, then returned a moment later, more persistent than before. He shook his head, hoping it would disappear. It was much too early. What time was it? He didn't want to open his eyes. If the alarm hasn't gone off, he didn't need to be up.

More tickling. He forced one eye open. The world was dark and blurry. Something was definitely poking into the side of his face.

Big red eyes.

_There is no God_, he thought groggily. God wouldn't let such a hard-working boy be disturbed in his sleep. He made a half-assed attempt at pushing her away. She merely poked his face again with whatever it was she was holding. It was blue.

He rubbed his eyes and lifted his head off the pillow. The clock read 5:45. He could've slept for another fifteen minutes. Trying his best to pull his sleepy face into a scowl, he looked at the small figure sitting on his bed.

"What do you want?" he asked, it came out half-garbled.

Alucard grinned. "Nothing."

In her hand was a blue pen. The cap was off. "What are you doing with that?"

"Drawing on your face."

It took him a moment to process those words. Common sense argued that she had to be joking, that he should put his head back on the pillow and go back to sleep. But then he saw the blue streaks of ink on his hand, the one he had just used to rub his eyes. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, if a day passed where nothing happened to tempt him to clean the vampire's clock, he'd almost miss it.

Almost.

Still half in dreamland, he reached out and shoved Alucard aside, nearly pushing her off the bed. "Move."

In the bathroom, he blinked hard, clearing his eyes. They finally did, and the vampire's handiwork reflected aptly in the mirror. Apparently, she had started at the base of his neck, drawing a series of complex Celtic symbols that covered his entire neck, up to his chin, and here was where she seemed to have lost interest in the complex designs and switched to the traditional mustache and eyebrows. He closed one eye. Good Lord, she ever colored his eyelids.

Alucard stood at the bathroom door as he splashed water over his face and neck, scrubbing hard with soap. "So," he asked her, "what did I do to deserve this?"

She played with the pen. "Why do you have to deserve it?"

"I like to think I'd at least done something to deserve the bad things that happen to me."

"Bad?" She pulled the cap off the pen again and began to doodle absently on her own hand. Walter had to admit she was quite skilled at it. The designs on his neck were practically works of art, and the little triangular Celtic design she was drawing without even looking on her hand was little short of perfect. He wondered when in the last five hundred years she had picked up this particular talent.

"Waking up with ink all over my face is bad."

She scoffed. "Some people are so unappreciative."

"Some people don't have to work all day on six hours of sleep." He walked out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel. It won't be completely clean. For the rest of the day he would walked around with a faint clue hue on his cheeks and neck. "Less than six today, thanks to you."

"You can do it," she said, flopping down on the bed just as he began to make it. Sighing, he dropped the sheets and got dressed instead. He didn't both asking Alucard to leave as he changed. She wouldn't. "You're a big boy."

"If you're going to be on my bed, you might as well tidy it up."

"I'm not your maid."

"Then what good are you?" he teased as she sat up. "Scoot over. I need to clean up so I can go get some breakfast."

"Always thinking about food, aren't you?"

He would argue, but at fourteen, that was true. Keeping quiet, Walter straightened up the bed as best he could. He wanted to get down to the kitchen, eat some English muffins, and get to working for the day. If he waited for Arthur to get up, the man would drag him to the library and offer him a "morning cap" on an empty stomach, after which he'd have to stumble around drunk all morning.

"All work and no play makes Walter a dull boy."

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe Walter wants to be a dull boy."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said, and brushed past him getting off the bed. Something caught his eye. Spinning around, he grabbed her wrist.

"Where did you get that?"

There, right underneath her chin on her neck, half-hidden by her hair, was a red scar. It was about two inches long, still slightly swollen. He could see the edges where it looked almost infected. He knew this well.

"That's a silver wound," he demanded, "where did you get it?"

All laughter fell from her eyes for a moment, then lit up again, brighter than before. "It's nothing," she said cheerily, shielding it with one gloved hand. He tightened his grip around her wrist, but of course that couldn't hold her. Before he could ask any more questions, she was gone, vanished from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

CH 2

She was a slave to humans. That was something that took some getting used to. At first the soldiers found it hard to believe. But it was true. No matter what powers she possessed, now matter how much she killed, she was a slave to the house. Not just employees like they were. She was, in every way, a slave.

It started when one man lost his sister, a mere fourteen years old, his last living family and hope, to illness. She might have been saved, but he was not informed in time to seek medical help for her due to a slew of vampire-related disturbances on the far side of the city. The man's name was not important. What was important was that he was the one who discovered exactly how far the extent of her servitude went.

Most of the soldiers cut him some slack that day during the drill, knowing he was not in the best of moods. His face was dark and he had the look of a lost man in his eyes. He couldn't quite keep up with the others and was missing quite a bit at target practice. Other than that, it was an uneventful day, until she showed up. She pranced about as usual, distracting them as they fought to ignore her. Then she noticed him.

"It seems you are lost today," she said to him. He said nothing. "What might the source of your distress be?"

When he did answer again, the other soldiers looked in their direction. They didn't want to interfere, but they knew the man was becoming agitated at her presence. This was not a good day for him to be near a vampire.

She chuckled at the dark look on his face. "Could it be death?" His eyes shot up, hot and glaring at her.

"It seems I'm right. But you shouldn't worry of death, be it your own or others. Take it from someone who knows, life itself is worth very little."

She often said things like that, comments on the worthlessness of life and the inevitability of death. The soldiers never quite understood why she spoke of such things, but it seemed to be a whimsy of hers. It was disturbing, especially considering their field of work, but usually they ignored her. This time, however, she had struck a wrong chord.

With an angered cry the man pounced on her. Before any of the other soldiers could drop their weapons to pull him off, he had removed the standard-issue silver blade from his belt and proceeded to carve up her pretty face.

Two men seized his arms, one grabbed his shoulders from behind. He came away surprisingly easily. The knife fell to the ground, and they saw that he was weeping like a child as they pulled him away. The vampire sat up. The knife had slashed clear through her left cheek. Another cut was clear through her eye, and another on her neck. She looked a mess, blood all over her pristine white suit. As her skin knitted itself, she raised a hand and wiped the blood off her face. Then she brought it to her split lips and licked it.

How they hated her as she smiled. Human suffering meant so little to her. She didn't care that she had hurt a man who just lost his last reason to live. To her, humans probably had no reason to live at all.

"If you wish to continue your position here," she said to the man, who was regaining control of himself and getting to his feet, "you should learn to wield better control over yourself."

No one helped her up, nor did she seek help. She got to her feet, dusted off her clothes. Her wounds were almost completely healed now. The silver that killed her brethrens with ease only left scratches on her. She felt no physical pain and no emotional pain.

A true monster among monsters.

Still, the soldiers asked themselves as they disbursed, comforting their comrade, why did she not defend herself?

oOo

His alarm went off. Walter reached over, shut it off, and sat up apprehensively. He looked left, right, up, then down, then up again. No one jumped up from the foot of his bed, no one fell from the ceiling to knock the wind out of him, and no one was tying his toes together with string. All of this, however was just making him more nervous.

He turned on the lights, cleaned his face in the bathroom and brushed his face. Nothing popped out of the mirror. He changed out of his pajamas and put on his butler's uniform. There was nothing sticky, alive, or both in his pockets.

Maybe Alucard had finally grown tired of her tricks. No, that wasn't right. Maybe she went to bed early today. That was just fine with him. He could use an uneventful morning once in a while. With that on his mind, he began to whistle a joyful tune as he searched for a tie.

It took twenty seconds of fumbling in his draws to realize his ties weren't in their usual spot. Scratching his head, he opened another drawer, followed by the nightstand, then the closet. All of his black ties were gone, even the one he left tossed on the headboard the previous night. Frowning, he crawled under the bed. Nothing but dust bunnies and one lone sock he didn't remember losing.

"Looking for something?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes before pulling himself out from under the bed. Of course. She waited patiently for him to stand, hands linked behind her back.

"What did you do with my ties?"

"I burned them. They were ugly."

"What?!" He wanted to pull his hair out. "What do you mean you burned them? You…"

She grinned pleasantly. "They made a lovely fire. I'd never used the fireplace in the drawing room before."

Walter buried his face in his hands to keep from screaming. "O.K.," he said after a while through his fingers. "I need a tie. Arthur is having three Convention members over and I have to look presentable. You burned my ties. What do you suggest I do?"

"You needn't worry about that," she said, and held something out to him. "I thought of that, so I got you this."

He looked down at the object in her hand. It was a tie. To call it the ugliest tie he'd ever seen would be too kind. It was the ugliest object he had ever laid eyes on, and he was certain it would easily trump most things he hadn't yet laid his eyes on. It was strangled by colors that could only be induced by a drug coma, overlapping each other in squiggly designs that was part Egyptian and part hippy. Smack in the center was a large eye, a bit too lifelike for his comfort. He almost expected it to blink at him.

"No."

She actually managed to look hurt. "Why not?"

"I'll borrow a tie from one of the servants."

"You won't be able to."

"Why?" he laughed nervously. "You did burn all of their ties, too, did you?"

She shook her head as her eyes trailed to the ceiling. "No. Of course not. But they'll have trouble getting to them for the time being."

Walter sighed. "They're on the roof, aren't they?"

She held the tie out to him again. "I got this tie especially for you," she said insistently. "I'll be sad if you don't wear it."

He stared at her. She stared back. The ugly tie was between them. The giant eye stared out the window. Finally, Walter relented. He never won these staring contests. He was convinced Alucard used low-level hypnotism to win every time.

Then again, there was the obvious reason that he was fourteen and she was pretty.

"Fine," he said, tying the hideous thing around his neck. It stood out like a thumb smashed sixteen times by a hammer then dunked in acid. "There, happy?"

"Very."

"Why do you do this to me?"

She winked at him. His heart nearly skipped a beat. "Because I like you."

He waited until the blush in his cheeks faded before venturing out of his room. Later, as he brought tea and cakes to Sir Islands, the man raised his cup and nearly missed his mouth as he laid eyes on the tie.

oOo

The soldiers were on edge for many days.

No matter what she was or what she did, she was a valued member of the Hellsing organization, and she had been hurt for doing nothing out of the ordinary. The director would not be happy about it. Even the man who had done it regretted it after cooling down. It was never a good idea to slice up the boss's pet.

But a day passed and nothing happened. Then another day, then a few more. They began to talk amongst themselves, questioning why they were never punished, at least lectured, for hurting her.

It would have stopped right there if not for another incident, when one of them happened to report in after a night's patrol and overheard a certain conversation.

"You've been provoking the troops again."

He stopped outside the director's office as a young, feminine voice replied, "Yes, master. It was all in good humor."

"Some of them don't think so." Creaking of leather. The director shifting in his chair. "You must remember, Alucard, that these are humans you're toying with. Humans who lay their life on the line everyday."

"All the more reason for them to learn the fleeting nature of life."

"That's enough." Stern, but not harsh. "You are overstepping your bounds. Remember that your current freedom does not come without a price. I trust you remember the years you spent in the dungeon before my rise to directorship."

A momentary silence. "Yes, my master."

"Good. I will tell you again, you are not to harm humans in any way. Physically or otherwise."

"With all due respect, master, humans are not as fragile as you make them out to be."

"I don't care!" The director raised his voice to his pet. That was rare. "If you wish to walk free and be fed, you will follow the rules, am I clear? You will _obey_ humans."

"Yes, master."

"Excellent. Now then, where is Walter?"

"It's past midnight. He's gone to bed."

"What? It's early. Wake him up and tell him to come have a nightcap with me."

The soldier waited for the vampire to disappear before entering the office to report in. Afterwards, he headed back to the barracks and relayed the conversation to the others.


	3. Chapter 3

CH 3

It was almost fun for a while, the way they went about torturing her. Their blade would "accidentally" stick out an inch too long and cut her arm. Every now and then a mercury-filled shell would break and splash all over her pretty face. It gave them a power over her, as if no matter how strong she was in her own might, she was still powerless towards them, the humans she looked down upon. But after a while they realized it made no difference, because it didn't deter her at all.

She still hung around at drills, making those degrading comments about humanity. It was as if she was taunting them, daring them to do more, to hurt her and make her bleed. Almost a challenge. Never once did she mention their handiwork to her master. And so some of them began to push the boundaries.

They cut her, burned her with cigarettes. Several times after seeing one too many vampire-mutilated bodies, they would take her to the weapons shed and take it out on her. Her kind was responsible, she once did as they did and would do it again if allowed, so she had to pay. She deserved every bit of it.

Not once did she hit back. Hell, she didn't even try to shield herself. That smirk never once left her face as they punished her, even when her lips were split and bruised, it never went away. They never knew if she felt any of it. It was never satisfying.

"Are you finished?" she asked them one particularly night. They merely turned away in exasperation. "Then you won't mind if I clean myself up."

They didn't. One of them even threw her a towel. It was almost routine. She wiped off her face as her wounds healed themselves. In a few moment, save for the cuts made by silver blades, her face was nearly flawless again.

"You certainly are an uncreative lot," she said.

One of the soldiers turned back. For a moment it looked as if he was about to pound on her all over again, but he reached onto one of the nearby shelves and retrieve a vial of quicksilver used to produce anti-Median bullets. "Hold her mouth open," he said to the others.

This proved to be very easy. She didn't flinch away as they forced her head up and her mouth open. She didn't even wince as the man poured the entire container of quicksilver down her throat, despite the fact that it must have been the equivalent of drinking acid for humans. Then they left her there, locking the shed behind them. It wouldn't hold her, but there was a satisfying "click" as the key was turned.

"Let's see you talk now," one of them had said before the door closed.

They didn't see her laying on the dirty floor, clutching her chest and stomach for the better part of an hour, but it wasn't hard to guess. They were also correct to guess that the smirk never left her face.

oOo

"I'm bored."

Walter flicked his wrist and took down another target. His training course was specially designed, vastly different from the soldiers' shooting range. Here, everything was his target – junked furniture, tree stumps, old paper targets. It was very much a junk heap, but for him, it held many advantages. He could pick and select which ones he wished to aim at and practice restricting his attack to one target without harming the others, or unleash a wide-range all-out assault in preparation for being overwhelmed by enemies. Alucard was sitting on top of an old, rusty oven, the corners of which he had already sliced off clean.

"Then go to bed," he told her. "It's the middle of the day."

"I'm not very tired today." She swung her legs off the side. "Want to make out?"

He stumbled, spattered, and almost lost a finger. "No!"

"Why not?"

Recollecting himself and trying to hide his mistake, he aimed at a chair across the range and sliced off its legs. "We're never making out. Stop asking."

"What about that time under the stairs after Arthur's Christmas party?"

"Hey!" he spun around. "That is _never_ going to happen again. Arthur made me take six shots of whiskey. I was lucky I walked out that night instead of being carried out."

She clicked her tongue. "Drunk or not," she said, "it was still your idea."

"And it's my idea never to do it again."

"You're such a heartbreaker, Walter."

"Now get out of the way so I don't slice your head off."

"Didn't hurt the last three times you did it."

He sighed in exasperation. "Alright," he said. "You're bored. What do you want?"

She tapped her chin with one finger cutely. "Make me a yo-yo."

"Make you a what?"

"A yo-yo, with those wires of yours."

"You can't be serious."

"I am very serious." She hopped off the oven. "I-" A fit of coughs seized her and she quickly turned away from him, covering her mouth with her hand, but it was not enough to hide the blood that sprayed out in a fine mist between her fingers. "Sorry about that," she said with a smile, wiping the blood off her lips and hiding her hand from him.

In two steps he was in front of her. He grabbed her hand and pulled it out from behind her back. The palm of her white glove was covered in a layer of red, sopping wet. There was blood on her teeth.

"What's going on?" he asked firmly, holding her hand tightly as she tried to pull away. "Who's doing this to you?"

"You're overreacting," she said airily, yanking out of his grasp. "If you insist on being a pain, I won't play with you anymore."

"Who did this to you?" he pressed.

She threw her arms around his neck. Surprised, he stumbled backward and his words vanished into the air. She pressed her soft body against his, every subtle curve hugging his.

"You're a sweet boy, Walter," she whispered into his ear.

Then, she was gone, leaving him alone on the range to ponder exactly how many times he'd fallen for that trick.

oOo

It wasn't another few months before things truly took a turn.

One of the soldiers, the first to attack the loathsome vampire after the death of his sister, had died on the battlefield. A group of ghouls overwhelmed him, turning him into onto of their own in no time. By the time his comrades got to the scene, it was too late, and they could only put him out of his misery with a bullet to the head and a prayer for his soul.

The girl, their alpha agent, watched it all in complete indifference. After it was done, she went on ahead and hunted down the host by herself, and returned with her white suit painted red as usual. Upon returning, she brushed past their huddles.

"Don't get so down," she said, "better to be in the circle of life and death than to stand still."

They gritted their teeth and mourned in silence on the way back to the barracks. There, they stashed away their weapons and ignored her as she fritted about, as if waiting for them to do something new to hurt her. Though it was obvious that it was all a game to her, they followed their usual routine. They took out their frustration on her, their pain, until at last, too tired and dispirited, they left her on the floor of the barracks to bleed and sneer at them. Then, they fished bottles of whiskey and rum pilfered from the kitchen – the director always had a fat stash of it and wouldn't miss one or two – out of their storage lockers and drank the night away.

When most of them fell asleep, some on their bunks and some on the floor, one man got to his feet shakily and went outside to take a leak. His inebriated mind was filled with blood, death, and the gray face of his friend taking a shot from his own gun.

Such a cruel world it was.

When he stumbled back inside, the vampire was still there, sitting on the floor, all wounds closed, her face and body good as new. She was stacking the soldiers' protective goggles into an impossibly high stack, like a child playing with blocks. Seeing him come in, she stood, half-turned and smirked.

"Humans," she said. "You reply so much on temporary highs."

He felt angry. Angry at her, angry at the injustices in this world, in this line of work. Still unsteady on his feet, he felt his lips pull into a snarl as he lunged at her, longing to wipe that smug expression off her face, and actually managed to catch her off guard. He stumbled. She stumbled, knocking over the tower of goggles almost as tall as she was.

His hand caught her collar and there was a tearing sound as the seams of her suit tore at the shoulder. He fell to the floor, clutching the torn piece. He looked up.

She was on the floor, the entire right half of her suit was torn away, exposing her unblemished skin, white as new snow. All the tortures they'd put her through hadn't left a single mark. The edge of a small budding breast peeked out from her undershirt, which had lost three buttons. Her hat had fallen away, and her hair, usually neat and prim, was tousled and fell messily over her chest.

How was she so beautiful?

It was unfair. How could a creature so despicable be so beautiful?

Before his mind had fully processed the situation, he was on top of her, pushing her down and holding her in place with one hand, the other tearing off the remainder of her clothing. He groped her smooth, slender body, smelled her hair. Dirt and gunpowder. The faint smell of the battlefield lingered on her skin.

Suddenly, his back hit the floor. Dazed, he sat up. Some of the other soldiers had being roused by the commotion. They shook their heads, rubbed their eyes, and tried to see what the noise was all about.

The vampire knelt on the floor, backed into a corner. She pulled the remainders of the tattered clothing tightly around her body. It took a moment for the man to figure out that she had pushed him. Not just mockingly. This time it was real. She had shoved him away from her, hard enough to knock stars into his eyes.

Her red eyes were roasting in hatred.

Someone laughed.

Then, someone else joined in. Soon, the whole barrack rocked with laughter. It was funny, so very funny. They had finally found the thing that got to her. Who knew? Who would have guessed the all-powerful vampire would fall to such a thing? Such a simple, simple thing?

They found the most pleasure in the way her eyes widened in fear as they surrounded her.

oOo

The alarm clock rang.

Walter sat up. He looked around as usual. Nothing popped out. He touched his face. Nothing. No ink, no makeup. He got up, half expecting his shoes to not be there and was surprised when they were. He went to the bathroom. There was nothing suspicious on his toothbrush, his bath soap was in its usual spot, and none of his towels were missing.

That didn't mean there weren't hidden booby traps somewhere though. He took a shower and brushed his teeth, never letting his guard down. Then he made his bed and put on his uniform. All of his socks still matched and his shoes weren't stacked into a pyramid.

"O.K.," he said out loud. "I give up. What did you do?"

No reply came. She must be feeling extra sly today. No matter. He combed his hair. It wouldn't do any good in the long run. He'll never be able to set his hair right unless he grew it out and tied it back. Maybe he'll do that when he's older, he decided.

Finally, all suited up and ready for the day, he looked around one last time. Was a basket of spiders going to topple into his nice, clean room once he was gone? Nah, Alucard wouldn't use the same trick twice. But the absence of her handiwork had him completely baffled. Where was she?

The only thing that ever kept her out of his room were missions. If she was not here by now, she must be still across town shooting down some freaks and ghouls. He hoped she wasn't feeding in front of the troops too much. Even with his familiarity with the vampire, the sight sometimes made him queasy.

He opened the door.

She was standing in the hall. At first he didn't recognize her. She was leaning against the wall opposite his door, her hands behind her back, her head down. Her face was entirely hidden by her hair, and she wasn't wearing her hat. In all the time he'd known her, she'd never gone without that hat for more than five minutes.

"Alucard?"

She looked up and he saw surprise in her eyes, as if she didn't realize he was there. Then, she smiled. It looked strangely forced. "Walter," she said, her voice unusually listless. "Good morning."

He crossed his arms. "What did you plan now?"

It was as if she didn't understand him. "What?"

"What did you plan?" he asked again. "That's why you were waiting for me, right? Let me have it. What is it this time? Snakes? Did you flushing some possession of mine down the toilet?"

She looked at him for a long time. Then, without a word, she pushed herself off the wall and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

CH. 4

He didn't see her for the rest of the day. After she disappeared in the morning, he stood there baffled for a very long time. He ventured into the dungeons to find her, only to find her door, which had never been closed in the entirety of his residence in the mansion, locked tight. By then he was already behind on work, so Walter, scratching his head in confusion, let sleeping dogs lie.

It wasn't until evening that she emerged again. Right around dusk, as he entered the library to clean up after Arthur's latest meeting, he found her sitting on the windowsill. She didn't acknowledge his entrance, or give any sign that she knew he was there. Instead, she stared out the window wistfully. He approached her. She didn't turn around. Carefully, he reached out to touch her shoulder.

As if shocked by electricity, she flinched away from him. When she spun around, he thought he saw fear in her eyes for a split moment.

"What's wrong?"

She avoided his concerned gaze. "Nothing," she said casually.

He sat down on the windowsill, across from her. She looked out the window again, though he could spot nothing of interest outside. "Something's bothering you."

She shook her head unconvincingly. "Nothing's bothering me, Walter. You shouldn't be so presumptuous."

He chuckled. "Come on," he pressed. "Something has to be. I've never seen you this quiet. You can tell me what it is. What can it be? You've lived this long and experienced everything there is. What can possibly bother someone who's done everything?"

She didn't reply. It was like talking to a wall. Walter fiddled his thumbs.

"So…" he said slowly. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad, right? Isn't that the point of becoming immortal? So nothing, no matter how bad, can kill you? That's the reason you became a vampire, right?"

She looked at him, a cold glare that sent a dry shiver down his spine.

"The reason I became a vampire," she said, "is because I hate humans."

oOo

The patrols went along as usual. On the outside, nothing's changed. They tracked down a rogue that attempted to attack a hospital. She went in ahead and took care of before the soldiers even had a chance to set up. Then, not bothering to wipe its blood from her face, she skulked past them. Her Tommy gun, almost as tall as she was, dragged behind her. The blood had come from her bullets – she hadn't felt like feeding.

The soldiers watched her go by. She kept her head down. A squad leader reached out and stopped her, lifting her chin roughly so that he could look into her red eyes.

"Don't look so down," he said. "You should be glad that you're not like us humans, having to rely on our temporary highs."

Several men nearby laughed. The cleanup crew had finished their job and was loading equipment into the back of an armored wagon. Gritting her fangs, she shook loose of the man's grip and tried to walk way. But he hadn't intended to let her go so easy. His hand gripped firmly around her arm.

She spun around and pressed the nozzle of the Tommy gun to his forehead.

His eyes widened for a moment, as did those of his buddies. A few of them dropped their equipment and laid their hand on their own weapons as the two stood in a stalemate. A thick minute passed by. Then, the man laughed. The others did, too.

"Go ahead," he said to her. "Shoot me. Prove you can do it."

Her hand trembled, but she pressed the gun tighter to his head.

"Go ahead and violate your master's orders, you little monster." He pulled her closer to him. "I dare you."

She bit her lip. Her finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger. For a moment it looked as if she was really going to blow the man's brains out, to hell with her human master and everyone else. But finally, she lowered the weapon to her side.

"That's better," he said.

She barely resisted when he half-pulled, half-dragged her to the wagon and tossed her inside. After several others entered, the door was closed tightly. She laid still, staring into the dark, confined space as they stripped off her clothing.

oOo

He was waiting at the bottom of the steps to the dungeons when she returned to the mansion, the perfect spot to catch her no matter what route she took. She hated the way he looked at her when she kept her head down and tried to duck past him, that mixture of sadness and concern.

"Wait."

She kept walking, ignoring his footsteps as he caught up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, keeping in step with her. She didn't look at him, or even acknowledge his presence. "What happened? Why won't you talk to me?"

Turning sharply, she merged into the nearest wall, but his fingers wrapped around her arm just before she could fade into the shadows.

"Stop running," he said firmly. "I don't know what's being going on but you can't avoid me forever, just tell me so I can help you."

She laughed. It seemed a cruel thing to do. After all, she reminded herself, the boy was so young and still idealistic. But she couldn't help it. Slowly, she pulled her head from the wall and turned to face him. He tightened his grip.

"You haven't talked to me in weeks," he said, refusing to cower under her cold gaze. "I know something's going on. What is it?"

She chuckled. "What do you care?"

The question startled him, but he didn't let go. "I care…"

"You're human, Walter. You're just like everyone else. Don't act like you want to be on my side. I don't expect you to be. It's the wrong side for you to be on."

His fingers loosened. His hands fell to his sides. She couldn't stand the hurt look in his eyes as he stood there. The silly boy looked like he might cry. "Why not?" he asked. "Why can't I be on your side?"

"Because humans and vampires are enemies. That's how it's always being and how it always will be."

"But we're friends."

So young. Despite how much he'd seen and done, the boy was still so young. In a way, it moved her, that such innocence still existed in the world. He truly believed that his kind and hers could stand on the same side.

The kind-hearted little fool.

"Don't be silly." With that, she turned away.

"I can help," he called after her.

She spun around. "I don't _need_ you help."

He may have stood there in shock, or perhaps he turned and ran off. Either way, she didn't stay to find out. Walking through the walls, she returned to her room, shoved the lid off her coffin roughly and laid down inside it. The darkness, usually so comforting, seemed to swallow her up. She was exhausted, but didn't want to close her eyes.

She didn't want to dream again. She's always dreamed, and it was hardly ever pleasant, but never had she imagined that this… the most dreaded thing from hundreds of years ago, would repeat itself. Back then, she had being young, a child powerless under the strong arms of the Sultan, but now she was a monster, an all-powerful demon who sold her soul to become the most feared being. That all meant nothing. In the hands of humans, she was once again powerless.

Her fingers crept to her face. Her nails dug into her skin so hard that, even through her gloves, they drew blood. She scratched at her face until it was bloody and raw, but it couldn't get rid of the feeling of humiliation, of being dirty. She wanted to bang her head against the wall under her skull cracked, to pull her hair out by the handful, but she knew very well that none of it would help. None of it would change the fact that she was a wretch and always will be. All the power in the world made no difference at all.

And that silly boy. He wanted to help her. He couldn't do anything, and didn't deserve to be dragged down with her. She didn't want him near her, didn't want him to be there for the worst.

No.

She could feel the changes in her body.

The worst had already happened.


	5. Chapter 5

AUTHOR'S NOTE: several people have inquired on when this story gets updated. The answer is every weekend. Except this last one because I had internet troubles.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 5

The manor had never felt so quiet. Nothing about the place had really changed. Business went about as usual. Arthur came and went, held meeting after meeting after meeting, talking about everything under the sun. The maid still bustled about as Walter did his chores, occasionally cooing at him, teasing him and calling him cute.

He could still hear the soldiers drilling in the afternoon hours. But without Alucard chatting away in his ear, it simply wasn't the same. He sighed quietly as he dusted off the bookshelf in Arthur's office. He knew he shouldn't worry about her. After all, she was immortal, and the most powerful vampire in the world to boot. She could survive a barrage of silver bullets in the blazing sun. But that only worried him more, that look of despair in her eyes as she told him not to be silly when he said they were friends. What could have wounded someone so strong, so invulnerable?

He shook his head and tried to concentrate on his work. He had to make some tea later. Sir Islands was stopping by, which meant he also needed to find rum to spike it with. Arthur always ordered that Islands' tea be spiked, whether the stuffy man liked it or not. He didn't have time to worry about her, especially after she treated him so coldly. She was the one who rejected his offer of friendship and broke his h...

He stopped himself and scrubbed the windows extra hard.

She wasn't speaking to him.

Not only that, she had stopped acknowledging his existence altogether. For many days the only way he could get a peek at her was to squint out the windows as the soldiers left for patrol. Sometimes he saw her, other times he didn't. In God knows how many weeks, he'd only seen her in the halls once, and before he could think of something to say, she had already glided by without a sound or glance back, as if he was nothing more than a spot on the wall.

"...ter?"

He hated how she ignored him, hated how she kept everything to herself, hated whatever it was that made her this way.

"Walter!"

He hated how he couldn't get her out of his head.

"Whoa! Hey!" A hand reached over his shoulder and grabbed the rag out of his hand. Walter blinked and turned to see Arthur looking down at him. "What are you pressing so hard for? That window is coming out of your pay if you break it."

He rolled his eyes. "You pay me in room and board, sir."

"Oh." Arthur scratched his head. "Well, break that window and you can sleep propped up against the hole to block the wind until it's fixed. But that's not the point." He snapped his fingers. "Go get your gear. You're going hunting."

Walter's heart did a flip-flop in his chest. Going on missions occasionally was nothing new, but right now it was a chance to...

Well, he wasn't sure what he would do with the chance. For the moment, he simply replied, "yes, sir."

"Do your best out there," Arthur said, giving him a pat on the back as he went. At the door, he heard the man mutter to himself, "God knows Alucard's being lackluster lately."

He didn't think he'd ever gotten ready for a mission so quickly. Within four minutes of receiving Arthur's order, he was out the door and ready to go. She had to be there, and this time, she couldn't get away from him without giving him some answers. They could fight together, and talk it out on the battlefield like the old days. halfway down the front steps, he felt a twinge of paranoia that she wouldn't be there, but then he spotted her.

She stood alone at the front gate, away from the soldiers, the Tommy gun at her side, nearly dragging on the ground. For the first time, it looked much too heavy in her hand.

She turned toward him, and he saw the weariness in her eyes. Her face was blank, and he couldn't tell if she was happy to see him or not. Regardless, he smiled and raised a hand to wave at her. She didn't wave back.

"Hey, kid, you coming or what?"

He shouted a reply. When he looked back, she was heading out into the night alone.

oOo

The vampire whose trail they caught was not particularly powerful, but a bit more sly than the most. While many young vampires thought themselves to be all powerful and dared to challenge Hellsing head-on -- and often eating a face-full of silver bullets in the process-- this one turned tail and ran, jacking the sports car of its latest victim. The chase lasted nearly an hour on a windy dirty road, until a sharp shooter on Hellsing's side took out the car's rear tires. It skidded and crashed into a tree stump, breaking its windshield and bending the hood its previous owner had so meticulously waxed. The vampire crawled out the shattered window and made a beeline for the dark woods.

They gave chase. Walter sprung to the lead, keeping a close eye on the vampire. Half a mile in, they were greeted by half a dozen ghouls, once unsuspecting campers. It was much too late to save them. The soldiers muttered prayers and raised their guns.

Walter let loose his wires. The trees around him rustled as he cut off their leaves and branches along with a few heads. When the barrage of gunfire died down, the soldiers stayed on alert as they ventured in deeper. A few stayed behind and called for clean-up. The woods were dark and quiet. Walter realized that he had long lost track of the enemy vampire.

And Hellsing's own.

"Kid."

He looked back. The soldiers had stopped advancing.

"Head back, kid. The vampire'll take care of the last one."

They were relying on Alucard to finish up. Under normal circumstances, Walter wouldn't argue. It was the usual tactic - the soldiers cleaned up the ghouls while Alucard took out the host. But today, he couldn't bring himself to walk away.

"You go on ahead," he said. "I'm going to scope things out."

The soldiers shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He was already on his way. Venturing deeper into the forest, it became harder and harder to see. He had no trail to follow, but he could see dim city lights in one direction. Since he could make out no commotion, the vampire would likely be heading the other way. He turned and traveled with his back to the light.

A flash of movement.

His fingers flexed instinctively, but it was already gone. Whatever it was wasn't coming for him. It didn't even notice him. In the darkness, he could see it dashing about. A sneak attack could be quite effective. He could level the vampire from where he was, along with part of the forest.

But something held him back. He ducked behind a bush instead. There was something strange about its movement. He squinted in the dark and saw that it was moving in a rough circle. At the center, standing in a small clearing, was a familiar figure.

Something wasn't quite right.

He moved a little closer. The small figure raised its gun with both hands and aimed at the vampire circling it, or rather tried to. As Walter watched, the vampire leapt from one tree to another. Alucard swung her gun too far and almost tripped on her own feet. She quickly steadied herself but the target had moved on again, leading her in a circle round and round. Not only that, he saw, she was letting it. It was taunting her and she was simply falling for it. She was also unsteady on her feet, continuously stumbling and wavering, as if dizzy from the movement. She was putting so much effort into holding the gun up that she was barely even aiming.

Something was very wrong.

Suddenly, she stopped moving. The Tommy gun slipped out of her hand and fell to the ground. The rest of her soon followed, her knees buckling under her as she fell. Seeing the opportunity, the rogue vampire left the trees and made a dive for her throat.

Walter leapt into action. His wires flew and struck a moment before the vampire hit the ground. It lost half its head. Its body stayed up for a moment as if in shock, then dropped like a dead weight.

He dashed to the bodies. Alucard laid on her side, unmoving. There were no visible wounds. He almost started to check her pulse and breathing before remembering she was already dead. Kneeling by her side, he shook her gently.

"Hey."

She didn't respond.

"Hey!" he said a little louder. "Are you OK? This isn't funny, you know."

She didn't utter a sound, nor did she open her eyes. Panic suddenly stuck Walter as he looked around. If he called out, no one would hear. But the troops were waiting for them. There was only one thing to do.

She was too heavy to be hoisted onto his back without help. Grabbing her arm, he swung it around his neck and wrapped one arm around her torso, then lifted as hard as he could, managing to get her to her feet. Half-helping, half-dragging, he began to move out of the forest.

Most of the way, she didn't utter a single sound or make a single movement. Sweat drenching through his shirt, he began to fear that she was really dead. But as they approached the line of armored cars just outside the woods, her eyes opened slightly. She tried to lift her head, but failed as if it weighed a ton. her murky eyes quivered as she tried to stand on her own. He held on tightly.

"Just hang on," he said. "I don't know what that thing did to you back there, but..."

Several of the men rushed toward them. They looked at the two up and down and asked what happened. None of them offered to help right away.

"She passed out," Walter told them. His arms were getting tired. He leaned down a bit for better leverage. "I don't know what happened."

Someone scoffed. Walter frowned. The way they looked at her made him uneasy, as if they thought she had no right to be sick or wounded. Alucard's eyes had closed again.

"Hey!" he snapped. "Just help me out, will you?"

The men hesitated. Finally, one stepped forward and offered his hand. Walter let Alucard slip off his shoulders and into the man's arms. He straightened and turned toward the lights to take off his vest.

"No..." he heard her say softly, followed by the loud "crunch" of breaking bones.


	6. Chapter 6

CH. 6

"Your arrogance and stupidity astounds me."

Walter took a step forward. "Sir, I..."

_Shut up. _

Arthur looked in his direction, his brow furrowed and eyes dark. It was the most serious Walter had ever seen him. "Do you have something to add, Walter?"

She was glaring at him. He shook his head. "No, sir."

Arthur turned back to Alucard. "Alright," he said slowly, "here's what I was told. The men saw Walter coming out of the woods carrying you, and when one of them tried to help you, you broke his arm in three places. Is that right?"

Her face, pale and ashen just a few minutes ago, was bright and sunny. "Yes, master."

"What the hell happened? If something is wrong with you, I need to know. _Now_."

She grinned smartly. "Nothing is wrong with me, master. Why ever would you think that?"

"Then.."

"I was merely playing with the boy." She winked at Walter as if he was in on the joke. "Who knew he'd fall for it? Boys that age sure are gullible."

She was lying through her fangs. Walter knew, and he suspected Arthur knew, too. He wanted to speak up, to explain that something was very wrong here. But a cold, invisible hand settled around his throat like a steel collar, choking off his words.

Arthur looked at both of them for a very long time. "All right," he said. "And what of the soldier you wounded?"

Alucard twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "That man's hands," she replied, "were much too dirty."

Arthur's fist slammed down on the desk. Walter winced. "Damn it, Alucard!" He rarely heard his master shout. "You're forgetting your place! It's bad enough that you've been lagging on the field, but hurting my men is going one step too far! You forget that I stake my own life and reputation on the line so you can roam free. Even the queen is risking having her name dragged through the mud to have you in her favor. Your freedom is a privilege, not a right!"

Walter stood there as Arthur went on, calling Alucard "irresponsible", "immature", "idiotic", on and on and on. Through it all, her expression never changed. That smile never went away. Finally, Arthur slumped back down behind his desk.

"If I may say so, master," she said causally, "perhaps you could save yourself an ulcer by confining me to the dungeons again."

Arthur gave her a stinging glare. "Don't tempt me," he said. "Walter, go to bed. And you..." he waved his hand tiredly. "Get out of my sight."

They bowed shortly and exited the office. The moment the door closed, Alucard stumbled forward and nearly keeled over again. But when Walter moved to help, she pushed him away. Her eyes had the same murky look they bore in the forest.

"Next time," she said, "just leave me."

Those were the most words she'd said to him in two months, and the most she will say to him for another two.

oOo

She had fainted.

She couldn't believe it, but one minute she was chasing the runt, concentrating on the thrill of the hunt, and the next the world was spinning. The rogue was running around her, and with each circle the shadows of the forest blurred a little more. Before she could focus her senses, Walter was dragging her out of the forest. It was humiliating. She had never felt so ashamed in her long life. Hunting was the one thing she could do and now she had failed at that.

When that man put his hands on her, her instinct kicked in. All she knew was that she didn't want him touching her. She had almost gotten Arthur to put her away again. But it hadn't worked. If he had sealed her away once more, she could keep her secret, fixed it herself. But when he didn't, she couldn't push it. Couldn't give him any clue that anything was wrong.

She laid in her coffin. Her body was drained and her innards in turmoil. Waves of nausea hit her and she sat up, leaned over the side, and vomited onto the floor. That was the third time today. She couldn't sleep, couldn't keep blood down, couldn't think.

It was like having a disease, she discovered. Like having a parasite. She could feel it inside her, draining her energy for itself. How ironic it was, for a vampire to be drained by another. Her body was taking it quite poorly, and she suspected it would only become worse as time wore on. This was not what her body was meant for.

It was wrong in too many ways.

Damn that Arthur.

Damn him for forcing her to take on this cursed female form.

But then, how could Arthur have guessed that this would happen? She didn't even think it could. And yet, there it was.

Her head pounded painfully. She laid back again. Her coffin had never felt so confining. She turned onto her side. Night was coming soon and she had slept less than two hours since morning. The pain in her head wasn't as much the cause as the discomforting feeling in her stomach.

She could feel it move. It was too alien, too disturbing, and it hurt. It hurt more each day as it grew. In a few minutes she would get up, grab her gun, and go on patrol again. When it's done, the men would take her to their barracks, undress her, and have their way with her. She suspected it wasn't about power anymore. They enjoyed it. She was different from the giggly maids they sometimes romanced. They enjoyed having her, and after the incident in the woods, Arthur's orders against harming humans have become even more restrictive. Since things couldn't possibly become worse, she simply gave in to it.

But she could only hide it for so long. She hadn't really thought about what to do after that.

oOo

Walter went on patrol more often.

It wasn't just about hunting anymore. On most days, his skills weren't needed. However, Arthur had made it clear in no uncertain words that his primary job was to keep an eye on the faltering vampire. Walter hated feeling like a spy, but he couldn't deny that he wanted the opportunity to be near Alucard.

Not that she paid any more attention to him than she did before. In fact, on most nights she didn't speak a word to him. If he was lucky, she nodded at him when he arrived, but usually she went off alone.

She hasn't had a repeat performance of that night in the woods, but sometimes he couldn't help but suspect that whatever ailed her was still there. Once he caught up with her in the inner city and saw her vomiting behind a dumpster, clutching her stomach as if her intestines might lurch out of her mouth. Another night she took down the prey, then, instead of feeding, stood next to the body and gazed at it as if unsure of what to do.

He also noticed the way she avoided the soldiers. They were doing something to her, but he didn't want to make accusations, in fear of stirring up trouble where it wasn't due. Besides, every time he tried to help or go to Arthur, she would look at him with those eyes that labeled it as an act of betrayal.

"Let me help you," he said to her repeatedly.

"No," she said the first time, and ignored him every time after that.

She looked so tired, and so frail. He hasn't seen her feed in at least two weeks and wondered whether she could physically starve, even to the point of death. Still, she refused to admit anything to him.

Though her actions hurt him deeply, Walter didn't tell Arthur anything. For a while he simply did his duty: worked during the day, patrolled at night, and woke up in the mornings to his quiet, empty room. Nothing happened for a while, until the night the truth struck him in the face like a fist.

He hadn't expected to discover anything that night. In fact, for the few nights leading up to it, he had begun to avoid Alucard, which wasn't hard since she treated him like the plague. After the uneventful patrol around the city, his head and heart felt equally heavy. There hadn't even being a runt to take out his frustrations on. Not only that, his personal practice range was already trashed beyond repair, not a single worthwhile target left. He had gone through them rather quickly as of late.

Feeling agitated and pent up, Walter found himself in the weapons storage, searching for a hand gun to shoot on the soldiers' shooting range.

Since the soldiers generally carried heavier weapons, there were only two guns in storage and both had not being fired nor cleaned in months. A bit rusty with hand guns himself, Walter turned a metal bucket over, sat down on it behind a tall shelf, and began to take the first gun apart.

It was when he began to put the cleaned parts back together that the storage door opened. There were footsteps. He didn't even look up, thinking it was one of the soldiers stashing away his gear. Then there was another sound, a soft "thump" like a bag being tossed on the floor.

He cast a side glance through the gaps between lines of helmets and cantinas. A familiar flash of white made him take a second look. He stood up, keeping quiet though he wasn't sure why. There were two figures, one much smaller than the other and very much recognizable.

He watched, numb in his spot, as the man, one of the soldiers he'd seen almost every night, lower himself to the floor. She did nothing, said nothing, as he slid his hands under her clothes, removing them unceremoniously. He heard voices outside. There were others. It wasn't just one man, and it was not an isolated incident. This was routine.

He watched the man pull off her jacket and undo her belt. She laid there on the floor, gazing upward, completely silent and inert, as if completely used to it.

Walter's fists clenched. His first desire was to rush out there and drag the man off her, to yell at her for not resisting and allowing this to happen. But his feet didn't move, and a second later, he realized why.

This was why she didn't tell him. She didn't want him to see, didn't want anyone to know that this was what had being happening.

He still thought they were friends.

And as a friend, he stood there and did nothing. He gave her what she wanted – to keep the secret to herself.

The man tore off her tie and shirt and was in the process was pulling off her pants when something suddenly caught his eye. There was a pause. Then, he stood up and took a step back. Walter saw him rub his temples.

"Shit," he heard the man say.

She sat up. The soldier turned away and began to head for the door.

"Hey," she said, not loudly, barely audible. He turned around and their eyes met. Walter saw a faint glow in Alucard's red eyes. It reflected in the man's, which quickly glossed over.

"Come here," she ordered in a whisper. The man came toward her, moving stiffly as if his limbs were not his own. Her pupils burned into his. It was a direction violation of Arthur's orders.

"Forget," she said. "Forget tonight." He nodded. She gestured to the door "Tell them to leave." He nodded and obeyed. Walter watched him exit. There was some confused conversation outside, then quieted down.

Alucard stayed on the floor for a very long time. She sat there, her back to him.

She retrieved her clothes and dressed herself, slowly as if she dreaded moving onto another task. The hapless way she moved stung him. He stepped out from behind the shelf, hoping to slip past her just as she turned around, and the shock in their eyes matched as hers landed on him, and his landed on the bulge in her belly.


	7. Chapter 7

CH 7

He chased after her as she descended the dungeon steps, convinced that, with the speed she was moving at, she was going to take a tumble down them headfirst. But she managed to reach the bottom. He reached out and grabbed her arm, holding on tightly as she struggled to get loose.

"What happened?"

She spun around and shook him off. "What does it look like?" she snapped and tried to walk off. He stepped around her and blocked her way.

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

"Suit yourself." She pushed him to the side, almost hard enough to plant his face to the floor. He stumbled, turned, and grabbed her again.

"How long..."

She batted his hand away. "Look," she said, enunciating as if speaking to a child, "this isn't your problem. Don't trouble yourself with this. It'll make your life easier."

He stood his ground and crossed his arms. "What if I make it my problem?" Her eyes glowed. He turned his face away from her. "Don't do that. I'm not going to leave you alone on this."

She looked him up and down.

"Five months."

"What?"

"It's being five months."

His eyes widened. "FIVE..." he stammered. "This have being going on for FIVE..."

"Longer than that," she said, cutting him off. "But five months since... this."

"Is that why you've been..." he wasn't sure what the word was. "... sick?"

She shrugged. "Yes."

"When were you planning to clue the rest of us in?"

"I wasn't," she said matter-of-factly.

Her nonchalance was beginning to grind on his nerves. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. "And what exactly were you planning to do in a few more months? What if someone else besides me had noticed? What about that man who did this to you?"

She sighed. "You are quite nosey, you know that?"

"Just answer my questions."

She crossed her arms. "I didn't plan to do anything," she said. "No one's noticed so far."

And she was right. Her skills of disguise were quite extraordinary. As soon as she'd regained her composure in the storage shed, she had pulled her shirt and jacket over her body, which instantly flattened, leaving no tell-tale signs for the naked eye.

"I had hoped Arthur would seal me away again for the offense against that soldier."

"And what good would that do?"

"Nothing in particular aside from leaving me to my own problem. It ought to be solved by the time he releases me again."

Solved. Somehow, that wasn't the right word.

"And I don't plan to exact revenge, if that's what you mean."

That surprised him. "Why?" he asked.

"Because he's human." Her looked at him almost accusingly. "I'm a slave to humans, Walter, perhaps you do not realize how far that servitude extends."

"But Arthur can..."

She pushed him again. This time he fell backwards onto the floor, bruising his rear on the stone.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, she was on top of him. He tensed up as he felt her reaching for his zipper. She unzipped his pants, undid his belt buckle, then slipped her hand inside. Her front of pressed against him, her mouth by his ear. He opened his mouth to speak, but she groped him. Hard.

It was a foreign feeling, one that extended from his scalp to his toes. He wanted to protest but could find no words. She was forceful, pinning him down onto the floor. Her hands roamed his body, teasing and violating him at the same time. She bit his ear and he gasped.

There was no affection in it, only physical contact, and pain that was both humiliating and pleasurable at the same time. The closer she got, the colder he felt. Her chilly fingers were everywhere, and he could not back away.

"Go ahead."

He drew a sharp breath. "What?"

"Tell Arthur," she breathed in his ear. His body suddenly felt dirty and awkward.

"Tell him what I'm doing to you. Tell your master all the filthy little things." Without warning, she grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look her straight in the eyes. "Now multiply it by a hundred and tell him again, tell him it's being going on for months and it's left a parasite in you." She shoved him away and stood. He laid there in a daze, propped up on his elbows.

When his senses regained their composure, he sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair.

"Alright," he said. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "There's nothing for you to apologize for. Just understand this: it has being a very long time since I was young and idealistic, so I don't pretend to understand your logic. Therefore, do yourself a favor and don't try to understand mine."

He looked at her. For the first time in months, she seemed almost like her old self.

"But Arthur can help you," he said. "If you just let him know."

She sighed. "Do you know what would happen if Arthur found out, Walter?" He shook his head. "He would inform the researchers of the organization. It's a manner of a miracle, after all. I don't even quite understand it myself. And do you know what they would do?"

"If they can study it, maybe they can help."

She laughed as if he had told a joke. "It's adorable the way you think, Walter."

He frowned. "Don't make fun of me."

"They'll cut me open," she said.

He blinked and started to open his mouth, but she went on.

"They'll strap me to a table with silver shackles and slit me open from throat to crotch, poke at the thing inside me and wonder how it's growing and living, then put various things inside me to see whether it will react and die or keep living."

He couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "You don't know tha..."

"It's happened before, Walter. Have you never wondered how this family came to keep its hold on the most powerful vampire in existence? They've studied me, Walter, inside and out."

It felt as if something was lodged in his throat. "Are you serious?"

"They have very cold hands, Walter."

He said nothing. There was nothing to say to such things. She shrugged and let out a soft laugh. He looked up in surprise.

"Don't feel guilty, Walter," she said, much too cheerily. "Don't feel like you have to take care of me because of what others did. None of this was your fault and you don't need to atone for your fellow men."

He shook his head. It was impossible to do what was asking for, but he knew argument would do no good. His body felt heavy as he got to his feet unsteadily. She turned and began to walk away.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

She stopped. "What?"

He met her eyes firmly. "Call it curiosity," he said. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

There was a long pause. Her hand slid to her midsection hesitantly.

"I think it's a boy," she said, and disappeared into the shadows.


	8. Chapter 8

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this chapter had to be toned down for FFN... for good reason

CH 8

They were on patrol again. But this time it was different. She still treated him the same way, ignoring him by and large, but at least now when they eyes met by chance, she didn't turn away immediately. And he couldn't take his eyes off of her, not a second.

Every time they drew close to a target, he had to fight the urge to jump in front of her and shield her from danger, and every time one of the soldiers brushed past her his teeth ground in anger. As they cleared a grocery store of ghouls, he tried his best to stay at the front of the action and keep her behind the enemy lines. He could see on her face that this annoyed her greatly, but as long as she said nothing, he stayed his course.

The host had holed itself inside after turning the entire evening shift staff into ghouls. As the creatures, each wearing blood-soaked blue smocks and white open-color shirts, groaned and advanced, the troops loaded their weapons and headed in, taking them down left and right. A few charged inside. Walter followed close behind. Alucard, despite his efforts to keep her back, had gone on after the host alone.

The store was pitch dark, and quite a bit larger than it looked from the outside. Broken counters and upturned shelves made the place a maze. Being less heavily armored than the others, Walter moved carefully. He wasn't frightened, but he didn't feel like getting bit either.

The far wall of the store had being smashed, a gaping hole leading to another store on the other side of the same building. There was gunfire behind him, and the shapes of other soldiers moved in the dark.

A shout sounded out from the other store, on the opposite side of the hole. Leaping over a pile of debris, Walter ran toward the sound. There was a crash, and another shout, this time of pain and terror. He pushed through the hole and looked around, squinting to see by the leaky streetlight. Two shapes were visible.

One of the soldiers was on his back, his helmet fallen away and his gun flung across the room. As Walter watched, the man raised his arms and batted at another figure, a large man long dead. The ghoul moaned and opened its rotten mouth and clawed at its prey. The soldier cried out and punched it in the face. Its neck cricked sickeningly, but its attack hardly slowed. Taking the split second to turn onto his side, the soldier dragged himself out from under the ghoul, or rather tried to before it seized his clothing again. He looked up and saw Walter.

"Help me!" he shouted. "For God's sake, hurry!"

A passing car. Headlights on the soldier's face. Walter saw his features clearly. It looked the same as that night not so long ago, when he bent over the petite child-shaped vampire, lust and hunger in his eyes, not unlike the way the ghoul bending over him now.

He took a step forward. The ghoul didn't pay him any attention. The soldier grabbed a piece of broken brick and hit it in the head.

"Hurry!"

Footsteps behind him. A red glowing dot appeared on the ghoul's forehead as someone took aim.

Walter's hands moved.

Two heads flew. There was a pause as if time stopped. Two headless bodies froze in their motions. Then, the ghoul collapsed, falling on top of the soldier, whose head rolled to Walter's feet, a look of surprise in its bulging eyes.

Then, silence.

The soldiers lowered their guns, looked from him to the bodies, then back. He turned around and wound his wires around his fingers. A gentle rustle from outside. Alucard stepped into the store. There was blood on her clothes. The commotion outside had died down. The ghouls had fallen, with their host eradicated. Walter turned to the soldiers.

"Oops," he said.

Then, casually, nonchalantly, he went to Alucard and laid an arm around her shoulders, ushering her out of the building. Half way there, he paused, turned, and glanced back at the men.

As soon as they were outside, she shrugged him off and walked away, but after that night, no one touched her, then or ever again.

oOo

She had a headache and the thing inside her was moving again. It was always moving, no matter what she was doing, kicking and clawing at her insides. She was tired and nauseous, not to mention the effort it took to maintain her disguise via illusion was tiring her out.

And there was another problem.

When the boy came up behind her and put his arm around her, she had shivered. It took some control to shake him off.

He was such a foolish child, going to that kind of length for her, and with so many witnesses. Arthur was not going to be happy, and this certainly tops the arm she broke not too long ago.

Her body was aching, every part from head to toe, some more than others. She fidgeted with her hair, rubbed her neck and chest absently. It felt like a million tiny worms were crawling over her skin. It was worse than the pain in her head and belly. The dreaded thing was turning her world upside down, in more ways than one.

She rode back in the back of an armored wagon, left all alone since Walter's little stunt. She sat with her back against the cold metal siding. The cold felt good. She slid her body against it, relishing it. Her nether regions burned with a yearning she had not felt in many ages.

She didn't want to admit who she was thinking about, but the boy's face and slender body wouldn't leave her mind. The wagon screeched to a halt. She sighed, straightened her clothing, and climbed out. The soldiers cleared a wide circle around her as she headed to the mansion.

Her mind was clouded, lust weighed over her senses like a wet wool blanket. She fought to keep from squirming as she passed the men and their pheromones washed over her like a tidal wave. It was disgusting. She was disgusted at herself, at them, but her body cried out for it, for the one thing she hated most.

The boy did not follow her tonight.

She waited for what felt like a very long time. The night waned and dawn began to approach as she laid in her coffin, unable to rest or sleep. A few minutes before six a.m., she rose. Perhaps it was coincidence, or just a habit that never died, but part of her noticed that it was the same time she used to wake him up in the morning.

His room looked the same, so familiar. It was strange to think that she had not being in side for months. He was laying on his back, a thin sheet draped over his torso, leaned and much more muscular than most boys his age. She licked her lips and crawled onto the bed.

He stirred and turned onto his side. She bent down and scraped her fangs over his neck. He groaned and opened his eyes a crack.

"Alucard?"

She kissed him. If he wasn't awake before, he was now. She dug her tongue into his mouth, tasting him, drinking him in. He tasted so good, fresh and warm. She moaned. Walter sat up and pulled back. The sheet slid from his body. She let her eyes wander over him. He looked at her, then around the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked, keeping his voice low. She shifted her body and moved so that she straddled his legs. "What are you..."

She cut him off with another kiss, then leaned down and slid her tongue over his chest. He shivered. She flicked his nose with one hand teasingly, then guided her fingers along his neck, shoulder, and between his legs.

He grabbed her hand.

"What are you doing??" he asked, more forcefully this time, but she could see the blush on his face and hear the quickening of his heart. His breath was shorter. His body was excited no matter how much he tried to hide it. She smiled, and knew that his common sense grew weak as she did.

A vampire in heat, especially one as powerful as she, was very beautiful.

"What's wrong?" she cooed, kissing his bare shoulder. "I thought you liked me."

In the second he took to think of a response, she wrapped her arms around him and drew him in, pressing his body against hers. She kissed him passionately, almost violently. He hesitated a moment, then returned it, holding her tightly. She smiled inwardly. He wanted it as much as she did.

The thing inside twisted. She let out a small gasp involuntarily and almost bit his lip. Walter sat up.

"Are you alright?"

She pushed him down and continued to kiss him, but Walter stopped her. Drawing his legs out from under her, he sat up straight and looked her in the eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Her body screamed out in desire, in hunger. Biting her lips, she began to advance on him again. He held her at arm's length and her strength pinned him against the headboard.

"What's wrong with you?!" she shouted, her patience and control at wit's end. He was so close. She could smell his scent. At the moment, she wanted to take him, overpower him and make him hers in every sense, every way. "You want this, too! Just let me..."

"No."

The word struck her like a fist. It was like being hit in the face with a brick. For a moment she simply stayed there, his hands on her shoulders.

"You're right," he said. "You have no idea how right you are. I do like you, and you may not believe this, but I think I want this more than you do right now. But this isn't right."

She was numb. As she knelt on the bed in front of him, her clothes and hair in shambles, she was suddenly very aware that her shirt and jacket was hanging open, displaying her swollen stomach in plain view. Quickly, she pulled her shirt close.

"I can hide it," she heard herself mutter. Her voice was so strange, so bleak, and as hazy as her muddled mind. "You don't have to..."

"It's not about that and you know it." He let go and she nearly fell forward. Her long hair fell before her eyes, tangled like a broken spider web. He pulled the sheets over himself. "You're going through a lot right now, and I really want to help you."

"Then help me," she said, barely audible, almost begging. "Give me what I need."

He shook his head. "I really can't do this. Please understand. If you and I ever..." he blushed cutely, "you know. I don't want it to be like this. I'm sorry."

Her head was throbbing, but it couldn't compare to the bruise her ego had just sustained. The shame, the humiliation, it all overwhelmed her at once. Awkwardly, she climbed off his bed. He reached out and grabbed her sleeve.

"You don't have to go," he said.

She pulled away from him and stumbled out of the room as quickly as she could manage. Outside, she buried her face in her hands.

How far she'd fallen, to let herself lose to animalistic urges brought on by the bearing of a bastard human child, to try to bed a fourteen-year-old boy in the wee hours of the morning, and worst of all, to be rejected.

If she still believed in a heaven, she would scream to it.


	9. Chapter 9

CH 9

By the sixth month it had begun to test her limits.

Not a day passed without her writhing and squirming in her coffin, clutching her belly, panting and gasping and trying her best to deal with the thing inside. It twisted and turned at all hours, kicking and tearing at her. Some days she was sure it was bent on pulling her belly apart to escape. In fact, she was pretty certain that was the case.

It hated her. Not because of who she was -- it was not sentient enough for that. It hated her body the same she hated it, because they were too different. The same way it was hurting her, she knew her own body was probably hurting it, too. They were poisonous to each other, unable to mix like oil and water.

There was also a chance that it was dying. A painfully slow death that it was trying to escape from. Even a creature that young knew to fear death. It was unlikely that it would live to its birth.

In an effort to survive, it demanded to feed, and her diet of human blood only set it off worse. She couldn't feed without being punished. Being more human than she was, it wanted the food of humans. Every now and then, when the pain got to be too much, she would sneak into the kitchen and find various items, such as white bread, dried meat, and cheese, and force then down her throat, fighting her gag reflex and the painful scrapes they left in her esophagus. It usually brought her a few hours of peace. Then it would sleep, and she would do the same, but all too soon the pattern would repeat.

Its vampire side was also emerging. Every now and then it craved blood, but not the blood she drank. It craved her blood. Too many times she was jolted awake from her slumber as it tore at her from the inside in order to feed on her blood. This usually resulted in her vomiting up long streams of blood and bile as it suckled her innards greedily.

Vampires were not meant to bear children. Being the only one of her kind, she reckoned that she may be the first one to do so, and probably the last.

How hard could it be, she's often wondered, to find a knife and slit herself open? Just let the damned thing spill out of her and die a peaceful death? But it was more complicated than that, she knew. It was against her orders to harm or kill a human in anyway, and this thing was at least partially human. Since she could not separate the non-human from the human, she could not do it harm.

Forever a slave.

oOo

In the mansion above the dungeon, Walter also found trouble sleeping. He tossed and turned in bed, even rose to perform a few simple exercises in an effort to tire himself out. But sleep refused to come. There were too many things on his mind, namely the sad, despondent look on her face when she begged him to have his way with her.

She had stopped hunting, almost altogether. All day and night she stayed in the dungeons, not even emerging to feed, at least none that he knew of. Once or twice he tried to venture downward to speak to her, only to find her door locked, completely impenetrable. He couldn't begin to guess what she was doing behind it, and part of him knew it was easier that way, on both of them.

After the incident with the soldier he killed, the others kept a respectable distance from him, and though he hated to do things this way, he managed, through some persuasion and not a small amount of bullying, to keep them from informing Arthur of Alucard's absence from most missions. It wasn't easy, but in the end he got his way and managed to keep her secret in the process.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. All day and night, she was on his mind. Since her visit to his room a few weeks ago, he'd only seen her once, when she followed the troops on patrol listlessly, not even carrying her gun. Throughout the entire night, she'd stayed in one corner or another, looking sicker and more haggard than he'd ever seen her. Still, she'd had enough energy to avoid crossing his path all night.

He was beginning to suspect that the toll being taken on her body was greater than she was willing to share. He worried someone would take advantage of the situation and hurt her. He worried she would hurt herself.

He went to the window, opened it, and shivered at the chilly air. He was only wearing his pajama pants, but the cold felt pleasant enough on his chest and arms. The night was dark and murky. Clouds rolled in thick waves across the sky. A rainstorm was probably coming their way.

That was fortunate, because had the sky being clear, he would have being looking up at the moon and stars, and would not have spotted the small figure in white crossing the lawn. By the time he squinted to see clearer, it was already half way to the front gate.

Instead of circling to the front door, he grabbed the nearest shirt and leaped out the window, landing soundlessly on the grass below. She sensed him. He stayed low and didn't move. From the shadows, he saw her turn half way, pause, and then kept moving. He slipped the shirt over his head, took a second to decide not to go back for shoes, and followed.

At first he had anticipated the task to be difficult. After all, she could travel by shadow, air, or rooftop. If she wanted to, she could lose him at any time and perhaps even leave him stranded in the middle of the city. But soon he realized to some surprise that she wasn't trying to lose him. In fact, she may not even be aware of his presence in the first place. Instead of traveling by shadows, she was walking, turning corners instead of passing through them. Though she was walking quickly, he could easily keep up and stay out of sight at the same time.

She walked for several miles, passing through various streets. Sometimes it seemed almost like she was wandering aimlessly, but he was certain she had a purpose. She was searching for something. Something she felt was important to find alone.

An hour passed. He began to wonder if he was being overly paranoid and considered heading back. Then she made a sharp turn down a small street. He picked up his pace.

A tall silhouette loomed at the end of the road. He recognized the pointed shape immediately. It was a church, a small cathedral topped by a large cross bearing the shape of Christ. He had passed the structure on and off before on his way to various errands. During the day it stood proud and white, welcoming worshipers to its abode. Somehow, at night, it looked somewhat sinister.

She had stopped in front of it, a few steps shy of the front steps. He saw her rub her temples, as if being so close to holy grounds gave her a headache. Then, she moved forward, one step at a time, dragging her body as if it was made of lead. He watched her ascend the steps to the front door, which was locked by a heavy padlock. For a moment he felt a panic in his chest, worrying how he would follow her if she slipped through the door.

She took the padlock in her hands and snapped it in two as if it was made of crystallized sugar.

He waited until she was inside before climbing the steps silently.

The church was larger inside than it looked form the outside. Dark pews lined the sides, leaving a wide walkway in the middle. On a raised platform at the front was a large statue of the Virgin Mary, with a candle lit on each side, the only source of light. An organ sat to the side, looking eerie and ghostly in the candlelight, as if it might start playing by itself at any second.

He ducked behind one of the pews and watched her. She went to the platform, but did not climb on top of it. Instead, she paced before it, left and right, looking for something. Finally, she found it. Walter moved closer to see her leaning over the baptismal basin, peering into the holy water it with a strange kind of concentration.

A golden goblet sat on a small shelf nearby, along side the plate used to serve host on Sunday services. She reached over, took the goblet, and dipped it carefully into the basin.

When he realized what she was doing, he bolted out from his spot behind the pew and dashed toward her. But before he could snatch the goblet out of her hand, she had already downed half the contents of the basin.

He grabbed her wrist. The goblet fell to the floor with a metallic "clank" that echoed off the walls of the church and rolled under the nearest pew.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he yelled at her. She only looked at him in silence. That look of despair again. It made him boil with an angry sort of pity for her. "Are you trying to kill yourself? You…"

Her lips parted slightly, but instead of words, what came out was a thick spray of blood. It splattered over his shirt, neck, and face. His grip loosened with surprise, and she turned away quickly, covering her mouth with both hands as more blood seeped through her fingers, pouring onto the floor like a river.

Then it began to flow from every orifice on her face. Her eyes, her nose, her ears. Blood and smoke poured forth, as if it was boiling over inside her, overflowing wherever it could. Her white clothes soon turned a deep, sickly red.

He tried to reach out to her, but she staggered away from him, and he could only watch in horror as she fell to her knees and vomited up a long stream of blood and bile onto the floor. Her fangs and tongue had taken on a shade of ailing red. Her illusion had fallen away as the agony won over, and he could dimly see her clutching her swollen belly in the dark.

She was clawing at her throat, her chest, and her stomach. Her skin began to turn red. Boils and blisters began to appear all over. Her face was covered in blood.

On her hands and knees, she still tried to move away from him, half-crawling, hiding her face from his sight. He bent and, ignoring her attempt to struggle, wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her still. She tried to fight him, push him away. Her blood soaked through his clothing, still he held on.

Pressed against her, he could feel the child move within her, so much that it frightened him. It was like an alien presence, threatening to burst forth out of her, tearing them both apart in the process. It was kicking, tearing, fighting with startling fury. And it was then that he realized what she had been trying to do.

_Why? _He wanted to ask as she finally stopped struggling. He lowered her to the floor and held her as she moaned in pain, her body buckling from the child's rebellion.

_Why do you have to do everything the hard way?_


	10. Chapter 10

AUTHOR'S NOTE: sorry for the delay. It's been a bit of a crazy holiday. Things should be back to normal now.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 10

Not too long after midnight, rain began to fall. Thunder rumbled overhead, following by crashes of lightning. The heavens opened up and the downpour drowned out everything in its path. 

Walter was grateful. The sound made it easier to shut out her cries of agony.

Minutes passed. Hours passed. When thunder subsided, leaving only rain in its wake, she finally began to calm. As she laid still with her head pillowed in his lap, he worried for the second time in a few short months that she was dead. But then the boils and blisters on her face began to fade, and the bleeding slowed to a trickle, stopped, and began to draw back into her body. It took a very long time, much longer than it should, before her clothes returned to a pristine white. Then she opened her eyes, and he saw disappointment.

"It didn't work," she said.

He wanted to hold her tight and cry, to yell and scream at her, to hit her for being stupid enough to do this to herself, then only say it "didn't work", like a kid playing with a broken toy.

She sat up with considerable effort, turned, and looked at the blood on his clothes. "You look like a stuck pig."

He glared at her. It probably wasn't as menacing as he'd hoped given the night he'd had. "Is that all you have to say?"

"It was only an experiment," she said. Gripping the side of the nearest pew, she pulled herself up. "You shouldn't have interfered."

"You could have _killed _yourself." He stood, too. She was pulling her jacket over the curve of her belly, recreating her illusion.

"So be it." She said flatly. "If I killed myself trying, then so be it. But don't worry." She fished out the goblet and set it in its original place. "It didn't work, so I won't try again."

"What made you think it would work?"

"There was a chance," she said, "that this thing is more vampire than human, in which case the holy water would have killed it. But it didn't, meaning it's more human than vampire. It didn't die from it, only crippled."

The word sounded so ugly. "Crippled?"

"Don't look at me like that. It was never going to live in the first place."

She went to the front door and drew it open, stepping out into the rain. He watched her wash the dried blood from her hair. "You always planned to kill it?"

"I don't have to. It won't survive beyond its birth. It was a cripple to begin with, not quite human and not quite vampire. Once it's without the support of my body, it will die on its own. There's no place in this world for such a child."

She wringed her hair and walked back inside. Even soaked and haggard, she was still chillingly radiant.

"Then why try so hard to kill it?" he asked. "Why not simply wait?"

She chuckled. "Because it's killing me, Walter."

He couldn't decide if she was speaking figuratively. She was smirking, that same smirk she used to wear when she woke him up in the morning. Seeing his stupefied look, she laughed. Despite everything, she laughed.

"Let me explain something to you," she said, "this thing is not a human baby. It's a monster. Though crippled, it's still a monster. It has the tendencies of a vampire, to fight and feed. Even as we speak, it's feeding on my blood from the inside. This ordeal has left it weak and hungry. It will grow a bit stronger after it's fed, and then, it'll want more.

"But, not being a full vampire, it cannot use the same abilities as I do. It cannot pass through objects, change shape, or heal itself. And so, it is also hindering me from doing these things, more and more as it grows. It took nearly five hours for me to recover from the holy water. A mere month ago, it should have taken less than two. Before that, no more than one."

She took a step closer to him and turned in a slow circle. "Take a good look, Walter. I'm stuck like this. I haven't been able to change my shape for two months now. Take that, couple it with the inability to heal, what do you think will happen when this thing arrives at full term?"

It was too obvious. He turned away from her playful gaze. The way she was looking at him, it was as if she had just asked him a riddle.

"Don't want to say it? I'll tell you. It'll claw its way out of me, then it will most likely die, and there's a fifty percent chance that I'll die with it before I can heal myself. And yet, since it's more human than vampire, I cannot simply kill it by slitting myself open right now. It would be against direct orders not to harm a human. Those men at Hellsing ought to be congratulated. They have found quite the way to kill a nosferatu."

Then, much to this surprise, she walked to him and took his hand.

"Why don't you do it?"

He started. "What?"

"Kill it for me."

Warmth radiated from her hand, up his arm. His body tingled. She was using a spell on him, he realized, mind manipulation through lust.

"It'll be quick," she cooed, her voice soothing and distant. "It'll be quick, and clean, and then we can get back to our life like before." She leaned in, standing on tip-toes, whispering in his ear. "We can even pick up where we left off that night."

He gritted his teeth.

His hands trembled.

He pulled out of her grip, took her shoulders, and pushed her away.

"Why do you feel you have to do this?"

Her eyes were filled with confusion and surprise.

"Why do you feel like you have to manipulate me?" he felt angry, angrier than he'd ever been, at her or anyone else. His heart was pounding and his breath was short. The remnant of her spell was making his head woozy. "After all we've been through, you still have to use me like a stranger. Put me under a spell to do your dirty work for you."

The shock and hurt on her face was getting to him, but he didn't care. It was all too much. Her nonchalance toward him, the soldiers, even the threat on her life… it was all a game to her. After all this time, she was still playing with him.

His bruised ego and broken heart could only take so much.

"You could have asked me. If you had asked me, I would have done anything for you, but instead you push me away and then try to use me like I'm just another toy. Am I a toy to you?"

"Walter…"

"_What am I to you?_" he demanded. "Do you even see me when you look at me? What do I look like to you? Just some kid who follows you around like a dog? Do you think you can just come to me at your whim and use me for whatever you want? Sex, murder, it's all the same to you isn't it? Well, I'm done."

He pushed past her, and was only a little disappointed when she didn't try to stop him.

"I don't care anymore," he said at the door before stepping out into the rain. "Since what I do or think doesn't matter to you, I should have taken your advice from the beginning. Do whatever you want, kill yourself or kill that thing. It doesn't matter to me."


	11. Chapter 11

CH 11 

The icy weather that followed seemed more than appropriate for the frost that developed between them after that night.

To Walter it felt as if he had come full circle, to exactly where he was months before – working alone, waking up alone, and occasionally taking afternoon strolls in the cold fall air in an attempt to get her off his mind. He tried harder this time, keeping himself occupied as much as possible. The mansion was spotless, even the library. His studies were always finished ahead of time, and he spent more and more time honing his skills, both on the battlefield and on the range.

He made a vow not to put his feelings on the line like that again. Not for her, not for anyone. At fourteen, he still thought that it was possible to swear off longing and attachment forever, and so he promised himself that he would never let her break him again. He still saw her often, mostly on nightly patrols, but he fought the urge to wave to her, smile to her, or even look at her.

Alucard was well-aware of all this, and she accepted it, just as she'd long accepted her place in life as a loathsome creature. It was a sad fact, but she lived with it since there was no other choice. After all, she often told herself, it was better this way. She had never wanted him involved in this in the first place, and it was better that he finally got the message. She didn't need more witnesses to this humiliation.

She was spitting up blood regularly now. Every time she coughed, her glove was stained. It had also being too long since she'd had a good day's sleep. She was lethargic and tired. Hunting proved to be harder and harder. She often held back and let Walter take care of the targets. It already took more energy than she had to spare to hide her condition.

Though it was much too early, she had already begun to feel contracting pains. She didn't want to admit how frightened she was at the thought of not knowing when and where it will happen.

For many days they did not speak to each other, not even so much as exchange a cold glance as they walked past each other. Even other residents of the household were beginning to take notice of the tension between them. The boy butler, they had always known, was the only one who willingly associated himself with the vampire. As for the vampire, the boy seemed the only one she was fond of aside from her master, for whom she bore a grudging respect. But of course no one ever asked. It was no one's business but their own. Besides, an unwanted question posed to either could easily result in a head being bitten off.

The only one who decided to do something about it was Arthur. And, as usual, he figured he had a pretty good idea.

On the day he decided to put his plan to action, Alucard was in the dungeons alone, listening to the howling wind outside.

It was like a mournful song to her ears, the impending storm. Or perhaps it was just her dark mood. Without any witnesses, she allowed her illusion to slide. Laying in her coffin, she put her hand over her stomach, and winced as the thing inside kicked, very hard. Because of her small size, the bulge it made looked almost grotesquely large, but she knew that the child was actually smaller than it should be. It was a crippled child indeed, malnourished and probably misshapen.

The sound of footsteps came from the stairs. She sat up awkwardly, turning to see who it was. Only two people ever ventured down here to find her, and unfortunately, the one that stood at the door was the one she has been trying to forget.

Walter didn't step into her room. Instead, he stayed just outside the threshold of the door. His expression was blank, no longer wearing those sad, concerned eyes.

"Arthur wants to see us," he said, and left.

The wind let out another shrill howl, echoing in the enormous hole his presence left behind.

oOo

Arthur tapped his fingers together. He looked from the boy to the girl, then back again.

They were standing so far apart he had to turn his head to accomplish this task. Hands linked behind their backs, they were almost on the opposite side of the room, standing stiffly as dead trees. They didn't exchange playful glances, or hide a smile at inside jokes, or even acknowledge each other. When Alucard walked in after Walter, he didn't even turn to look at her.

This was highly unusual, and really quite puzzling. Ever since the boy took up residence in the mansion, the vampire had shadowed him relentlessly, hanging onto him possessively as if claiming him as her own. And the boy was obviously smitten from the get-go. Arthur remembered that age, young and fanciful and falling for anything with soft hair and pretty eyes.

But for nearly half a year now they their relationship had grown frosty. At first he thought he had imagined it, then he thought perhaps they would work it out. Whatever it was that led to it wasn't really his business, and he wasn't all that interested to begin with. As long as they worked in tandem, he couldn't care less what they did under closed coffin lids. It wasn't until he began to hear that they were no longer cooperating on the field did he become concerned.

As they stood before him, stubbornly ignoring each other, he thought about the best way to approach this. He was admittedly no good when it came to dealing with children, especially emotional issues. Sometimes he wondered what sort of bratty hell spawn he was destined to produce and how much he would have to pay a nanny to put up with it.

"All right," he said. Four eyes focused on him. "What's going on with you two?"

Walter looked at Alucard, then shrugged and turned away. Alucard grinned cutely. She was so good at it, but this time he wasn't going to let her get away just by batting her eyes.

"I don't believe I know what you mean, master."

"I keep hearing that you two aren't cooperating on the field." No point in beating around the bush. "I thought it was made very clear that you two are a team. You must fight together and support each other, otherwise the consequences could be dire. We can't afford to lose either of you just because you can't work out some petty spat in the middle of a mission."

Her face fell a bit. He'd hit the nail on the head. This was good, he told himself. Talk to them like they're adults. Walter was a mature, level-headed young man, and Alucard… well, Alucard would get there eventually.

"So," he said, "are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Alucard's red eyes twitched toward Walter. It was quick but Arthur caught it. She was worried that Walter may betray something. He turned to Walter.

"Well?" he asked, then added, "I'm not saying you need to tell me anything, but if something's going on that could affect the operations of the organization, I have a right to know, don't you think?"

Walter was avoiding his gaze. On the other side of the room, Alucard began to fidget. Arthur waited patiently.

"Is something going on with one of you? Or perhaps it's both of you? You shouldn't hide secrets from me, Walter, especially if it's something you can't work out for yourself. I'd hate to have to break the two of you up, but if it's necessary, I will do what is needed. It would be a pity, because you made such a good team."

"No."

He raised a brow as Walter finally spoke up. Alucard seemed surprised, too. She was looking at him with an unreadable expression, a strange mix of anxiety and fear.

"We can take care of it, sir," he said firmly. "I'm sorry for any trouble this has caused. We'll try our best not to let down Hellsing and the Queen."

Arthur smiled. "Good," he said, "that's what I wanted to hear. And to prove that, you two can take off tonight."

"Tonight?" they were surprised. Good, he had wanted to catch them off guard before they started protesting.

"Yes, you're going to Badrick. There have been reports of vampire activities for a long time now and I think it's high time we checked it out. You have two days."

"But, sir," said Walter hesitantly. "Badrick isn't in our jurisdiction."

"Which is precisely why only the two of you are going. I'll have a small copter prepared for you. You'll slip in and slip out. Try not to draw attention to yourselves and eliminate any targets you find as quietly as possible. Now go pack. You leave in an hour."

They didn't seem enthusiastic about the assignment, but they both bowed obediently and left. In truth, there hadn't been a report out of Badrick for nearly a year, but that wasn't important. What mattered was that the two strongest agents of Hellsing needed to get out of their rut, talk to each other alone, and work out whatever it was they need to work out, whether it involved handshakes and hugs or screaming at each other until they're blue. Either way, they needed an outlet, and a little trip to the quiet, secluded countryside was just what the doctor ordered.

Arthur went back to his work. He felt rather pleased with himself.


	12. Chapter 12

CH 12

Walter packed fast. He stuffed two days of rations and a clean shirt into a rucksack. If they were to see some action, he would hate to travel back in a dirty shirt. When it was done, he sat in his room and waited for the time of departure.

Two days alone with her. He wasn't sure how he would handle it. After all, they hadn't spoken in weeks, and there really wasn't anything to say. He sincerely hoped that Badrick was crawling with ghouls and vampires, because then it would mean that they could do something other than stew in the uncomfortable silence.

He waited until the last minute to head out to the helicopter pad. A pilot had already warmed up the engine on the plane. Peering inside as he approached, he saw that Alucard was already inside, sitting in the back row as close to the far window as possible. She gazed absently out the window as he climbed in and dumped his rucksack in between them. No "hello", not even a nod. He sighed inwardly. It was not going to be a pleasant trip.

Her Tommy gun was laying on the floor. As the helicopter took off, he made a faint effort at conversation.

"Aren't you bringing the coffin?"

She shrugged and replied, "I'll survive for two days without it," and continued to stare out the window. Neither of them made an effort to point out the fact that she was in no condition to lug the heavy coffin around.

The trip didn't take very long, but it felt like an eternity. With every minute they stayed in the air, Alucard looked more sickly. Walter had never known her to be bothered by air travel, but as they drew near Badrick, she leaned against the side of the cabinet, one hand clutching her stomach and the other gripping the armrest of their seat. He saw her grimace in the shadows.

Eventually, the copter hovered over the grassy fields of Badrick. The pilot made a motion to them: jump.

He looked over at her. Jumping out of planes was customary for the two of them. They were very good at it. The pilots hardly ever bothered to pack extra parachutes when flying them anywhere. Alucard bent, picked up her gun with some effort, and coughed into her glove. He saw blood.

"Hey," he said to the pilot, "land."

The man looked back at him in surprise. "That's a first," he said. "What's the matter, don't feel like showing off today, kid?"

"I'm about to spend two days in the middle of nowhere. I rather not risk starting it off with a broken foot." That was a lie. At this altitude, he could jump and land in his sleep. "What are you looking at?" he snapped as the pilot regarded him suspiciously, giving a swift kick to the back of the man's chair. "Land already!"

The pilot brought the copter down onto the field, landing gently on the grass. The spinning blades sent a strong gust off wind through the land. There was only grass, as far as the eye can see. As Walter hopped out of the plane, he scanned the area. The only building he could see were broken barns that once belonged to farmlands, now abandoned.

He turned to help Alucard out, but she had already half-stumbled out of the copter on her own. She dragged the Tommy gun behind her like a dead weight. The wind from the copter's takeoff nearly knocked her over, but she didn't take his hand when he offered it.

"Just stay here," he said to her. "I'll go scope out the area and do what needs to be done. You can't…"

"Walter," she said flatly, "I thought you said you were going to take my advice."

With that, she hefted the gun onto her shoulder and began to venture into the deep grass. Walter followed.

After the pilot took the copter back to base, he did a routine examination, and briefly wandered how the metal armrest of the back seats got so bent out of shape.

oOo

The majority of the first night was spent wandering the fields. The area of Badrick they were in was not very heavily populated, and any vampire activity tended to concentrate in the small clusters of towns and villages. But after a round to the nearby areas, they found nothing. No vampire activity, no major incidents, not even a wandering ghoul. They walked side by side, keeping a cold distance between them. Walter kept his hands tucked in his pockets and didn't bother to make conversation. Why should he, he figured, if she wasn't even going to try?

They visited several cemeteries and churches, and finally returned to the vast fields and began to venture into further areas. Still, by the time morning rolled around, the most dangerous thing they came across was a half-starved stray dog.

As the sun began to appear over the horizon, they rested under a patch of shade provided by a small cluster of trees. Walter dug through his pack and ate some of the dry, flavorless rations he'd packed. Had he being in a better mood as of late, he would have packed some better snacks for the trip, but as it was all he brought were a few packs of military rations and some water. He ate it anyway, and half-hoped that Alucard would break the ice and make some comment about his appetite or the blandness of human food.

But she did neither. As he ate, she found a darker patch of shade and sat down against the nearest tree. As the sun grew brighter she appeared increasingly pale and listless. When noon came around, she laid on her side and dozed on the ground, one arm pillowing her head and the other draped over her belly.

Walter knew he ought to sleep also. The key to a successful hunt was to rest when the opportunity allowed it. But he simply couldn't close his eyes. Instead, he found himself looking at her.

There was a time, especially when he first took up residence in the mansion, that he looked at her a lot. Before he knew of her true identity, he thought she was very pretty, and very unique. Her energy was mesmerizing. After he learned her true nature, she fascinated him even more. The mystery behind her existence made her even more beautiful. Her strength, her power, and her mischievous smile were all intoxicating. She was always the symbol of beauty and mystery in his eyes, an untouchable fortress in a tiny little package. She was amazing.

For the first time since they began to drift apart, he realized that he hadn't gotten a good look at her in a long time. And now, in the sunlight, aside from the bulge in her front, she still looked very much the same. But it was the subtle differences that caught his eyes.

She grimaced in her sleep, and he saw how tired and frail she looked. Her eyes seemed to have sunk, and her complexion was not its usual porcelain white, but a sickly beige. Her hair was unkempt and her posture betrayed tension and discomfort. He hadn't seen her smile or felt her fingers poking him in his sleep in quite a while, and the last time he was physically close to her, her face was covered in blood.

For the very first time, she looked vulnerable.

His eyes drifted to her stomach. Her illusion had fallen away. He wandered if she was strong enough to keep it up once they return to base. She had to be near full term now. He calculated the months past on his fingers. No, she still had one month to go, and it was probably going to be a long one. What will she do when the time came? The stubborn girl will probably insist on "taking care of it" herself. It frustrated him to no end.

He wanted to get angry at her, but knew it wouldn't do any good. She would just brush him aside as usual, and he was sick of reasoning with a brick wall. If she wanted to do it herself, he ought to give her his blessing.

He moved a little closer to her. Her chest didn't rise or fall as she slept, having no breath to deliver. She slept like the dead. She _was_ dead. He marveled at how a dead body could hold a living thing. It was some sort of cruel miracle, just like her very existence.

He reached out. His hand paused in midair. What was he trying to do? He wasn't quite sure. He looked at her to make sure she was completely out, and laid a hand gently on her stomach.

It was moving. He was surprised that he could feel it move right underneath her skin, as if they were separated by no more than a thin piece of gauze. He had felt it move before, but hadn't realized that it was always moving.

Suddenly, it felt real.

He looked at her again. For the past eight months she'd been dealing with this alone, all day and night, every second of every minute. Everywhere she went, everything she did, it was with her, always inside, always causing her pain, always a reminder of what had happened.

_It's killing me_.

He wasn't sure how to feel. Before he could decided, the thing inside her kicked, so hard that he felt the point of impact against his hand like a boxer's punch. Pulling his hand away, he quickly moved back several feet as she sat up in a daze, holding her belly.

She rubbed her eyes and moved her messy mane out of her face. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked in his direction groggily and saw him watching.

"Did you say something?" she muttered, half-asleep.

He shook his head and laid down on the ground next to her, his arms under his head. "No," he said casually, "go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when the sun goes down."

She rolled onto her other side and went back to sleep. He laid there for a long time, sorting through a million thoughts. Her smiles, her life, her pain, the mornings and nights they spent together, their words, both kind and harsh, that awful night in the church. Then, he came to a conclusion.

_I would still do anything for you,_ he thought to himself. _You don't have to ask_.

He resolved to tell her that the minute they returned to the mansion.

oOo

When she woke up the sun was already below the horizon. Alucard sat up awkwardly. Sleeping on the ground was not comfortable in the least, and had somehow left her more tired than she was before. She grabbed hat off the ground, dusted it off, and put it on crooked, not bothering to straighten it as it fell to one side. Her gun felt heavy.

The thing inside her was behaving strangely. She wasn't sure what to make of it. For the first time since it took shape, it wasn't attempting to tear her apart. Instead, it had almost ceased all movement, only shifting slightly every now and then. She was still sensitive to its movements, but was grateful that it was at least taking a break for once.

She scanned the nearby area. Walter was nowhere to be seen. She turned around and caught his shadow retreating into the darkness, heading toward a small lake in the distance. Dragging the gun behind her, she caught up to him as quickly as she could manage.

"Where are you going?"

He looked at her in surprise. "I thought you were asleep."

"So you thought you'd leave me there?"

"I was going to look around and come back. I didn't think it required two people to scope out a lake."

He was trying to spare her the effort. She gritted her fangs in frustration. "Stop it."

He shrugged. "Stop what?"

She stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Stop talking to me like I'm stupid. I know what you're doing. I already told you to stop trying to atone for someone else's sin. I don't _need_ you to take care of me!"

He stopped, dropped his pack, and looked her in the eyes. "I'm not trying to do anything," he said firmly. "We're on a mission and I'm just trying to wrap it up as soon as possible."

She scoffed. "Wake up, Walter," she said. "There's nothing out here and you know it. We've already searched every sign of civilization as far as the eye can see. How many vampires do you think stay out here in the woods and drink from wild rabbits? I don't know why Arthur bothered to send us out here, but…"

"You don't?" he snapped, cutting her off. "And you tell me to stop talking to you like you're stupid. You _are_ stupid! Arthur wanted us to take this chance and work things out, but you can't even make an effort at being civil!"

"I don't need you to tell me how to be civil, _boy_." She tossed her gun into the grass. "I need you to stop trying to take on other people's guilt and sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!"

"Oh, sure." Walter threw his hands up in the air. "Throw age in my face. You know, for someone with five hundred years under their belt, you sure haven't learned any people skills. Do you ever get off your high horse and try to understand us humans for once? We have a thing called compassion, which you obviously don't get."

"Don't force your 'compassion' where it isn't wanted!'

"Why not? You already hate humans, I might as well give you another reason to hate _me_!"

The argument was absurd. They both knew it but neither could stop. The mood rose as they stood, fists clenched and eyes cold, screaming at each other over the howling wind. The night was getting colder, but the heat between them only grew. Finally, exhausted after God knows how long, they fell silent. Walter picked up his pack and swung it over his shoulder.

"Do whatever you want," he said, "as far as I know, Arthur gave us a mission and I'm going to complete it. I'm going to check out the other side of the lake."

"Fine," was all Alucard said as he walked off. She picked up her gun and headed in the opposite direction.

She hadn't wanted to fight with him. It was a pointless argument that only drove a wider wedge between them. Arthur was not going to be pleased if they were to return in this state. But that was alright. She didn't care.

It took about twenty minutes to walk a quarter of the way around the lake. Just as she'd anticipated, there were no suspicious activities. There was no moon tonight, only a few sparse stars reflecting in the lake's rippled surface. She looked across the lake for a sign of Walter, but found none. It was better that way. She didn't want him around when she loathed herself.

She didn't manage to make it half way around the lake before her insides clenched. It was like a knot being pulled tight. She dropped the gun and clutched her middle. Suddenly, it dawned on her why the thing was moving differently.

_No. Not here. _

_Not now._


	13. Chapter 13

CH 13

The moment they began to argue, he had regretted it, but the words kept coming and he couldn't stop it. In the end, they wound up angry at each other again. Perfect. Just perfect. He tossed the pack into the grass, picked up the nearest rock, and skipped it over the surface of the lake.

The truth was, until she pointed it out, he hadn't really considered the possibility that this may really be a wild goose chase. When she brought it up, suddenly all made sense – Arthur never intended for them to hunt anything. It was all a ruse to get them to make up on their own. But seeing her being so reluctant to make an effort had lit his already short fuse, and it all went downhill from there.

Still, he stood by his decisions before. And he admitted to himself that, to a point, she was right about a lot of things – he didn't understand her. He couldn't possibly understand the misery and pain she'd sustained in her lifetime, and the toll past and recent events have taken on her pride. She may be petty and childish at times, but it was probably a result of having taken too much in stride over time. Treating everything like it's no big deal was the way she dealt with hardships. He decided he ought to respect that.

He skipped another rock. It went further than the first one. He felt much calmer now. Looking around the lake, the view was soothing and peaceful. Instead of keeping up this charade, he decided, he would go find her, be the bigger man and apologize, then let her do as she saw fit. With that thought in mind and a new-found lightness in his step, he began to head back where he came from.

She wasn't at the spot where they had parted. If she had gone on to the other side of the lake, it may be easier to head around the opposite way and catch her coming around. This was what he did. But an hour later, he was back at the same spot. Scratching his head, he gazed into the distance. His eyes weren't as good as hers, but in the vast field, it shouldn't be hard to spot a moving shape, and she had said herself that she couldn't travel by shadows anymore.

Nothing. He lit a cigarette and contemplated what he should do.

From where he stood, there were two structures in sight. One was a tiny lake house erected by a broken dock. He checked that one first. It looked empty from the door and he feared setting foot inside might send the whole rotten wooden structure crashing down into the lake. He called out even though it was obvious she wasn't there, just for good measure.

The other was an old barn a quarter mile out. There was a pile of broken brick and old wood next to it that might have been a farm house at some point. He wasn't sure where he would go next if she wasn't there.

The barn door was so loose and splintered that he thought it would fall backward when he pushed it open. But it held, and he stepped inside, coughing at the dust and scene of old hay. It was bigger than it looked from the outside, with high windows that provided little light. He squinted, searching. Stalls that once held horses lined both sides. Bales of hay were piled against the back wall. There was also a wheelbarrow with one wheel laying on its side. In the shadow cast by the debris, he spotted her.

At first he wasn't even sure it was her. The small shaped looked like it could be an abandoned doll. Listless and hunched over, she sat in the corner. Her legs were crossed and her head dipped low. For a moment he thought she was meditating.

"Hey," he called. "What are you doing in here?"

She didn't answer. Or move. Maybe she was upset with him. He walked into the barn, kicking up clouds of dust.

"Listen," he said sheepishly. "I'm sorry about before. How about we forget about it and get this trip over with?"

She lifted her head slightly. There was a long pause. "It's O.K.," he said her say, barely audible. "Please leave for now."

It wasn't the response he'd expected. The barn was too dark for him to see her expression. He walked closer to her, squinting. There was something odd about the way she was speaking, like she was out of breath. As he approached to her, she suddenly snapped her gaze to him, and he saw her red eyes burning in the darkness.

"Leave, Walter!" she snapped.

He stood his ground. Something was very wrong. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Is something wrong?"

"_No_," she replied firmly, "I…" Her words were cut off by a gasp of pain. In two steps he was in front of her. Dropping to his knees, he saw her bent over, holding her belly tightly. Her lip was bleeding, cut by her fang.

"A-are you…" he stammered incoherently, "is it…"

She took a deep breath. "Just go, Walter," she said calmly. "Go outside and stay there. There's nothing you can do."

He watched her removed her jacket and set it aside along with her hat. Even now, she was cool and collected. But that couldn't be right. He was certain that, inside, she was frightened, shaken. How could she not be? She said so herself.

This could be the night of her death.

Another contraction hit. She uttered a small cry and chewed on her lip again.

"No."

She glared at him in annoyance. "What do you mean 'no'? I already told you, I don't need you here, nor do I want you trying to make up for anything anyone else did. Just mind yourself."

She tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her shoulders. Too often he'd done this recently, trying to keep her from getting away, trying to help despite her cold remarks. He was getting tired of it, and he couldn't help but notice that her arm was shaking.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What?"

"What's _wrong_ with you?" he asked again, sensing anger in his voice and trying to keep it under control. "Why do you have to assume the whole world is against you? You always think everyone hates you and if someone's trying to help, it must be guilt. Can't you just let someone give you a hand for _once?_"

She started to argue, but he cut her off, tightening his grip on her shoulder. "You can't make me go away this time, so don't even try. I'm staying whether you like it or not."

She conceded, or rather didn't have a chance to refute. The next wave of pain hit her and she nearly doubled over. He kept one hand on her shoulder and dug through his pack with the other.

"I thought you had another month."

"Trying telling that to it," she said, rubbing her stomach tiredly.

"Um, should I boil water or something?"

Despite the circumstances, she began to laugh. The sound echoed off the empty walls.

"You've been watching too many movies, Walter," she said, laughter and agony running together in her eyes. "Just make yourself comfortable. It's going to be a long night."


	14. Chapter 14

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's the final chapter a couple of days early because I felt bad about how short the last one was. Enjoy!

CH 14

He had originally thought that once he decided to help, he would know what to do. So far, he had been proven wrong. Dead wrong.

At fourteen, he wasn't exactly ignorant in the ways of men and women. He did, after all, live under Arthur's roof. But this was different. Not only had he never seen a woman in the nude in his life, childbirth was always something just beyond his apprehension. He knew the mechanics, sure, but it was nothing like facing reality to make him realize exactly how little he knew.

Without a proper bed or even a blanket, he could only create a make-shift padding with hay and lay his clean shirt over it. He used his pack as a pillow and helped her cover herself with her jacket. That all went smoothly enough and he felt proud of himself for a brief moment. But unfortunately, the night went on.

As pain ripped through her small body she twisted and turned, moaning hoarsely, shaking and straining. Sweat soon drenched her brow and he could actually see her swollen belly change its shape with the intensity of the contractions. The shirt underneath her was torn to shreds within an hour as she gripped at it with a damp hand. Then it got worse, and guttural screams began to escape from her throat, as if someone was pounding steel spikes into her body.

He wanted to hold her hand, but when she gripped a metal bar jutting out of the side wall and it bent with a torturous groan, he decided it wasn't such a good idea.

And the blood. There was so much blood that even Walter, a veteran to the battlefield, felt light-headed at the sight of it. It was as if her body was slowly tearing itself apart. The task seemed too large for her tiny body. She was trembling.

He was, in every sense and definition, freaking out. He wanted nothing more than to pull his shirt over his head and think about the sunrise.

Sometimes her body bucked and thrashed, and he had to hold her down, fearing she would hurt herself. This resulted in many stinging bruises on his chest and arms. That was alright. He couldn't imagine what kind of pain she was in, but he knew his was nothing compared to it.

After seven hours, she looked at him with lifeless eyes and begged with the most pitifully weak voice for him to leave.

"Please," she said, "I don't want you to see me like this."

He only shook his head and stayed by her side.

After ten hours he began to worry. He had no idea how to deliver a baby and no clue how to check its progress. But he knew it wasn't going well. It didn't take a medical expert to see that.

She seemed to know a bit more than he did. Every now and then, in between contractions, she would push back the jacket covering her body, exposing her bare stomach. He watched her feel its surface, touching and pressing certain points with grim concentration before laying back again.

He wanted to ask what she was doing, but then she was moaning again, gasping and struggling to get through the next bout of pain. He could only sit by her side, contemplating on how right she was: there was nothing he could do.

oOo

She was delirious.

She was exhausted, worn out, completely and utterly spent in every way. But there was no end in sight. Her body was not her own. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the atrocities being committed to it. The only thing she could do was deal with it. Bear the pain, and hope that it will end. Eventually.

The baby was positioned awkwardly. She could feel it. As time bled by and she became less and less aware of the world around her, she only knew one thing: she was losing. It was a battle and she was losing. The defeat was painful and humiliating in so many ways, and he was watching. The one human she'd cared about in half a century was sitting by her side, watching her in her most vulnerable moment.

She begged him to leave, but knew he wouldn't. When he shook his head silently and wiped her brow with his sleeve, she felt a muddled mix of adoration and hatred for him. He was there, the most faithful companion she had ever had, but she hated that he couldn't just do what was better for himself. He was tired, too. Worry and exhaustion lined his face.

It wasn't just the physical pain. Her mind was filled with screeches of agony. Not her own. She had already driver her throat hoarse with those. The thing in her stomach was screaming as it was forced out of its poisonous sanctuary. It hated being inside her, but being outside meant death and somehow it knew. It was in as much pain as she was, perhaps more. In the struggle, they were killing each other.

The contractions tore through her. She lost all sense of time. At some point the sun came up and Walter moved to shield her from the beam of light that stuck its head through the high window.

She had long given in to the torture and was waiting for its end. Or death.

Whichever one came first was fine.

oOo

The child came into the world just an hour before dusk in a gush of blood, after the longest twenty-four hours of either of their lives.

She didn't move to pick it up or touch it. He was the one who came forward and took it in his arms. It took a single breath then breathed no more. She laid there in silence, her eyes gazing vacantly at the ceiling.

"It's a boy," he told her, knowing she didn't care. "What should I do with him?"

She chuckled, a cold, morbid sound. "I don't give a damn," she said, "wrap it in a newspaper and throw it in the lake."

With the baby cradled against his chest, Walter stood and walked out of the barn. When he looked back, he saw that she didn't turn to look at him. She was still gazing at the ceiling, unmoving, expressionless. He stepped outside.

The last hint of sunlight was just beginning to disappear. The eastern sky was a soft veil of orange. He went down to the lake and carefully washed the baby off in the water. It felt like the right thing to do.

It was beautiful.

He had expected it to be a hideous mutant, perhaps with one eye, a shrunken head, and bloated limbs. But it was beautiful. Its hair was black as the night and its finger and toes delicate and adorable. Its eyes were open slightly and he saw that one of them was brown, and the other red. Its skin was fair and pale, and there was a tiny birthmark on its chest.

Walter sighed. "I'm sorry," he said to the child, "there's no room in the world for someone like you."

He built a file in a small clearing and burned the body. Then he said a short prayer for it, though he was unsure if heaven had room for a soul like this one. He smoked a cigarette as the small corpse disappeared little by little in the embrace of the fire, then headed back to the barn.

She wasn't there. He sighed. She sure knew how to keep him running around. He briefly wondered if she had died and her body disintegrated, like she had predicted, but her hat and jacket, the two pieces of clothing that he knew were not generated by her magic, were also gone. So he took his pack from the ground, left his shredded shirt in its place, and returned to the field.

He found her at a different part of the lake. Her clothes were laid in a neat pile on the grass.

The water came up to her waist. In this weather, it had to be near freezing, but she seemed perfectly at ease. He sat down on the shore and waited as she washed herself. Her hair, her face, her body. Her movements were sad and slow. When she finished, she came out of the water, dressed herself, and sat by his side. A soft gust of wind caressed her dark locks.

He took a drag of his cigarette, then handed it to her. She took it, but did not put it between her lips.

"Are you O.K.?"

She nodded as they gazed out into the lake. "I'll live."

"The copter will be here in an hour."

"I know."

He stood. She did the same. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he headed to the rendezvous point. No more than ten steps later, he felt a pair of small hands on his forearm. He slowed his step as she walked alongside him, holding his arm with a gentle but firm grip.

"Thank you," he heard her say softly.

He took her hand and they walked in silence. Later, as the copter took off back to the mansion, they fell asleep in the back seat, their heads pillowed against each others, fingers loosely linked.

END


End file.
